


The 7 Year Gap

by surelysaiyangood



Series: Royal Kin [3]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Android Saga, Canon-Typical Violence, Capsule Corporation, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Cell Games Saga, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 49
Words: 181,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15278223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surelysaiyangood/pseuds/surelysaiyangood
Summary: Having grown exhausted of Vegeta's temper, Bulma is done trying to get him to let her in. She's ready to move on and focus entirely on Trunks! When Vegeta finally realizes that he wants to change his act, will she give him another chance or will it be too late? Slow burn.Story 3 of a trilogy.





	1. A Fresh Start

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and offered feedback on "The 3 Year Gap!"  
> To any new reader, this is the third story in a trilogy. The order of the stories is as follows:  
> 1) Anyone But Him  
> 2) The 3 Year Gap  
> 3) The 7 Year Gap
> 
> You're welcome to read this on its own, but for character development you may want to check out the others first! This story may also contain certain references to the previous installments.

It had been 6 months that Vegeta and Trunks had spent in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and for 6 months they had trained in silence. The saiyan prince wasn't exactly enthused when he learned that his grown son from the future was going to be joining him in seclusion for a year, but he figured that as long as the boy kept his distance they would both do just fine.

Vegeta couldn't help but find Trunks irritating. The boy simply lacked any of the saiyan pride that _even_ Kakarot had in him, and at the same time he had constantly tried to tell Vegeta what to do. Vegeta wasn't one to take orders from _anybody_ , and Trunks was always trying to steer him away from any type of confrontation with the Androids - and in that timid way of his, too! It was nothing short of an insult that Trunks didn't think his own father had the capability of winning a fight. The boy needed to know his place. He needed to know that _his father_ , Prince Vegeta of the Planet Vegeta and rightful ruler of the almighty _warrior_ saiyan race, was the strongest being there was. This was something that Trunks just wouldn't grasp, and it was infuriating.

 _What kind of saiyan avoided conflict, anyway_? That was a serious question in of itself - but what was even more irritating was that Trunks had also managed to find the ability to become Super Saiyan! Super - when it'd taken Vegeta to the verge of madness before he'd found the way. How on Earth did a skittish saiyan who was afraid of combat find the key to the change - and at such a young age, too?!

Vegeta, who had been taking a rest, finally found himself in a good enough mood to ask. He began to make his way towards Trunks, who had been in the middle of a power up. When Trunks saw his father approaching he stopped everything he was doing and quietly waited to see what this was about.

"Tell me, **boy.** " Vegeta said in a stern, yet calm tone. "How did you find the capacity to become a super saiyan in your youth?"

The teenager's eyes widened, looking somewhat shocked by the attention. Of course, Vegeta found this obnoxious. _He was always acting so timid_. This boy was supposedly his son... _His son!_ He'd always wanted the boy to know his place, but he also wanted Trunks to assert confidence. It just wouldn't do to act so fragile all the time. This boy had blood of saiyan royalty in him, didn't he? Where on Earth did he inherit his apprehensiveness from?! _Bulma_ didn't even act like this, _although_ she had been a bit nutty the last few times Vegeta had seen her...

"I..." Trunks began, obviously not wanting to think about it. "I was always told by my mentor, Gohan, that becoming a super saiyan came from a deep feeling of grief..."

Hearing the name alone set Vegeta off. Perhaps it was that child who had done this to his son, then?! "Who cares about that offspring of Kakarot! I asked you a question, boy! How did you find the ability to become a super saiyan!?"

Trunks was feeling offended by the way Vegeta spoke about his dearly departed best friend. "It happened a long time ago," He croaked, dropping his face and rolling his hands into fists. It didn't take much to see that he was trying to avoid the subject, but Vegeta wasn't yet satisfied. In fact, he was still exasperated.

"Rubbish! Don't pretend that you can't remember! A saiyan _never_ forgets something like this! Now **,** **tell me** how you became a super saiyan!" Vegeta snapped. He wanted to get a rise out of Trunks - to see the boy actually hold his ground. Vegeta had been nothing less than pissed since before the battle with the androids started, and Trunks' bashfulness was only infuriating him more. He'd been trying to assert his dominance over this adolescent ever since he realized that the boy was _his_ son. He'd even ignored him for six months in the time chamber to prove his point. Now that he was addressing Trunks - demanding him to speak, this kid was going to be uncooperative? "What could _you_ know of grief, boy?" Vegeta spat, hoping that his condescending tone would prod the boy enough to react.

It worked, because it was then that Trunks finally snapped. "Shut up!" The teenager yelled, his ki instantly flaring up. "What do I know?!" He looked up from the ground with a sudden fire in his eyes - one that took Vegeta by surprise - it was a look that reminded him of h _er_. "I come from a terrible era filled with death and destruction! I grew up without a father! I watched my mom struggle constantly to try and make a good life for me! I've had to worry about her and protect her from becoming another one of their victims! I watched my best friends _die_ at the hands of those monsters! **Don't you dare ask me what I _know_**!"

 _'Finally_ ,' Vegeta thought, a smirk forming at his lips. ' _The boy shows that he has some spine after all.'_

The fire left his pupils as soon as Trunks finished shouting. He dropped his face, his long lavender hair hanging over his eyes. He shook his head, his biceps trembling as he continued to hold his hands in fists. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that."

As far as Vegeta was concerned, there was nothing to be offended by. He let out a chuckle and crossed his arms. "I see." The saiyan grunted. Without speaking another word he strolled off, making sure to brush past Trunks as he went. The two did not exchange any more words for the rest of their time in the chamber. Vegeta made no gesture whatsoever, and Trunks was obedient enough to follow suit.

It was a few weeks later that Vegeta was taking a rest from meditating - which he'd taken a liking to doing between training sessions. He'd raided the refrigerator and was walking back to where he would continue his mental exercise, munching at a leg of meat. In the distance he could see the boy - charging up and throwing punches into thin air at a pace that most people wouldn't be able to fathom. Vegeta found himself watching this kid, analyzing his moves. Vegeta admired when a man was able to keep to himself and thrive in solitude. He was glad that Trunks took Vegeta's cues and stayed away. ' _It seems the boy didn't learn how to be so annoyingly persistant, like the way his mother is.'_ Vegeta thought with a smirk.

It hadn't taken long for Vegeta to realize that depending on being an Ascended Saiyan during battle was futile. After starting his training in the chamber, it'd only taken a couple of months before he had come to this conclusion. Trial and error had taught Vegeta when he learned how dramatically his stamina suffered upon making the transition as the ascended. Despite the following months he spent attempting to adjust his body to this new level of power, it was of no use - it simply required too much energy to maintain such a strong level of ki. This is what had led Vegeta to an old habit of his - meditation.

When Vegeta meditated he analyzed his surroundings, his mind, his soul. He would build a scan of his own body and use it to mentally calculate his own weak points and strengths, coming up with a plan on which attacks he would use - and when. He analyzed the Z-Fighters that would be fighting along with him, acknowledging their biggest inhibitors and their _laughable_ advantages.

In fact, as Vegeta meditated, he found himself also identifying the boy who'd come from the future. He'd witnessed Trunks fight - and it was bittersweet to admit that he was _good_. He'd watched Trunks single handedly destroy both Mecha Frieza and King Cold, and with this thought Vegeta couldn't help to feel a strange pang inside. It took him a few moments before he realized what it was - this was a feeling of pride. ' _No.'_ He found himself thinking, ' _I didn't have to chance to defeat that bastard myself... but the boy... my own **son** , did...' _It was with this that Vegeta opened his eyes, awakening from his thoughts. He looked into Trunks' direction to see the teenager kicking off his boots as he prepared for a rest. The boy was so quiet. Isolation didn't seem to disturb him at all. In fact, he looked perfectly natural keeping to himself. It was as if he were accustomed to reclusion. The ability to thrive in confinement was a trait it took to be a true warrior. Somehow watching the boy behave in this state left Vegeta with yet another smirk.

He would never forgot the look in Trunks' eyes when he'd finally been set off. And the words the boy had spoken.

* * *

"I can't believe it's all over," Bulma said. She'd just seen the _teenage_ form of her son, Trunks, disappear into the sky with his bright yellow time machine. Her parents had already left the scene - off to finish up with their daily tasks, leaving Bulma standing alone with the _baby_ form of her son in her arms. She'd been through a lot recently. Aside from all of her fighting with Vegeta, she'd had a few brushes with death, played a part in working out the programming of the androids, one of her best friends had died, and she'd even met her own son as a teenager. She'd met him, heard horrifying stories about his life, and had bid him farewell for good. It was a lot to take in...

Leaning against a tree, Vegeta had his eyes closed and his arms crossed. It seemed that ever since he'd arrived on Earth his mind was constantly preoccupied with one thing or another. For the longest time he'd struggled to become a super saiyan and struggled to cope with the liking he'd taken to the blue-haired woman that tended to his every need. He'd struggled to train and further his strength in the time chamber after having unfortunate outcomes to the battles with the Androids. Once again, having watched the fight against Cell, his mind was trailing like mad. He'd quickly realized during the battle with Cell that he was incapable of defeating him. It was a lot to come to terms with - Vegeta wasn't used to admitting to himself when he was inferior. What also plagued him was the vision of Kakarot sacrificing himself to save Gohan.

It was one that Vegeta couldn't just get out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried - and he _hated_ it.

Bulma stepped past the saiyan as she headed to the house, not caring to bother him from his thoughts. In fact, she hardly even gave him a glance as she went. Sure, they'd been through a lot. But the last time she'd tried to have a serious conversation with Vegeta he had completely blown her off. With everything she was going through, she didn't care to risk another fight. After all, he'd told her before the battle that he was going to leave Earth forever once it was done. At this point she didn't see any reason to not believe him, and she wasn't interested in becoming emotionally invested with him again before he left.

Why would she want to, anyway? He'd left her for dead when her plane had exploded! _What kind of jerk would do something like that?_

Stepping into the house and having a look around, Bulma let out a heavy sigh. Trunks was squirming to escape her arms, and she set him down on the tiled floor under her feet. The baby immediately crawled away, wanting to find something he could use to practice standing. She'd watched his progress as he'd grown, and she knew it was only a matter of time before Trunks took his first steps. The baby eagerly wriggled away, and she followed his trail into the living room. In there he'd already pulled himself up against the couch and was practicing his balance. Once again, Bulma followed his lead. Throwing herself on the cushions felt like such a relief, as she let out another heavy sigh.

So much had happened, and she felt as if a heavy weight were being pressed against her.

Cell was dead, but so was Goku. She'd learned that the mysterious boy who'd come to warn everyone about the Androids was actually _her_ _baby_ Trunks, all grown up. It was amazing how instantly connected Bulma felt to the adult Trunks. There was a large gap of his life that she hadn't experienced, and yet when she looked up into his eyes she felt an absolute connection that took her breath away. She wanted to do nothing more than to cradle him, as if he were still an infant. Her boy was so sweet and smart - and incredibly strong, too. It was heart breaking to hear bits and pieces about the future he lived in. She wanted to protect him from the horrors he'd encountered, to take him in her arms and brush away the pain. It was unbearable to know that he was having to return to a future that she could never imagine living in. There was a large void in Bulma's heart as she mourned the loss of her future son and lamented his circumstances. It was even stranger to feel this way as she sat with him in the same room.

What more, there was the whole subject of _Vegeta._ After cycles and patterns, her relationship with that arrogant bastard was _finally_ over. Even though she knew it was for the best, it was a lot to take in. There had been times before when she'd told him that they wouldn't work out, but there had always been a small twinge of hope that remained in the back of her heart. This time there was no hope at all - just an empty feeling of reality. Sure, there was a comforting sense of closure in finally coming to terms with their fate, but Bulma was still mourning the loss of the man she'd always hoped Vegeta could be. She had _believed_ in him, she truly had. And she'd kept him close to her soul for so long that, now that he was gone, there was a void that hadn't yet healed.

… She wasn't sure if it would ever heal.

It really was a lot to process, but as Bulma watched her son play a few meters away, she found she had no desire to pity her situation. She and her baby had been given a _second chance_ at life. A second chance! Her son was alive, young, and had a long future ahead of him. A future that _certainly_ wouldn't turn out the same as the one Future Trunks had endured. She wasn't going to tarnish that by succumbing to the sadness inside. On the contrary, she was going to do everything in her power to make her baby's life great!

With that thought Bulma stood up. If Trunks wanted to play, they were going to play!

* * *

It was hours later that the sun was setting over the trees, and Bulma was happily bouncing Trunks in her arms as they walked home from an afternoon at the park. Trunks was cooing wildly, flailing his arms around in the air. His mother laughed along with him, ecstatic with her son's joy.

Bulma was walking alongside a brick wall that enclosed the park from outsiders. As she made her way further down the sidewalk, she suddenly came to a halt.

Vegeta was sitting, his legs hanging off the edge of the wall, as if he'd been specifically waiting for her. When he saw her the saiyan quickly jumped, falling about 3 meters through the air before landing on his feet right in front of her. "Woman," he said, dusting off his right sleeve.

Bulma backed away and held Trunks closely, shooting Vegeta a scowl. "What is it?" She asked. She had no desire to be rude with him, but she was also going to stand her ground if she needed to. Trunks had suddenly dropped his euphoric demeanor, staring at Vegeta in awe as he clutched his mother's shirt.

"Are you going to walk alone?" The saiyan prince asked.

"Yes, of course I am..." Her eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "...Why?"

Vegeta furrowed his own eyebrows, as if he were struggling to think of the words he wanted to use. Finally he settled on "I'll go with you."

"No thanks, my house isn't that far from here." This was making the Bluehead uncomfortable. She wasn't used to him acting like this... What was going on?

"It is getting dark. I'll escort you two back to the house," Vegeta tried again. There was no malice in his tone, his voice sounded completely calm - if not a bit awkward. He'd noticed them when Bulma and Trunks had left the house. He'd followed them to the park. He'd waited for _hours_ as they played, watching to make sure they were safe as he sat on the brick wall and tried to think of what he would do when they finally left. She'd always been so needy that he'd figured she would be delighted by his suggestion. He hadn't been expecting her to be so difficult, though he wasn't quite surprised, considering where their relationship stood at the moment.

This just wasn't turning out right _at all..._

"I walk home at night all the time, it's fine." Bulma said curtly. She didn't know what Vegeta was up to, but she had no interest in finding out. He'd been nothing less of a jerk to her ever since Trunks had been born, and she had completely lost all patience for his chaos. "Excuse me," Bulma said, stepping to the side to continue her stroll.

Vegeta stared at her, considering her words. He was extending himself to her. _He was extending himself to her_ , and she was _rejecting_ him. Didn't she know him well enough by now to understand that this wasn't an easy task for him to do? Was she _trying_ to be difficult? Was this some kind of game she was playing?

 _'Well.'_ Vegeta thought smugly. ' _Two can play at that game!'_ He'd encountered reverse psychology before, though he didn't yet know there was a name for it. He'd never attempted to use it, but now he was going to give it a shot.

"Fine then." He said, stepping to the side. "Walk by yourself, woman." He made a hand gesture, as if to wave her along.

"Okay, then!" Bulma replied, her voice suddenly cheering. She stepped away and waved back without looking. "See ya!"

Vegeta turned in shock, his eyes following her figure as she disappeared into the distance. ' _What?'_ He thought, a vein beginning to throb in his forehead.

_This was certainly not the way he'd expected the night to turn out!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!
> 
> As I mentioned before, this story currently has 42 chapters (and is still in progress). I will be posting as frequently as I can to get it caught up. All I am doing is proof-reading the content for spelling and grammar before uploading. This is a great opportunity for me to revisit my work and freshen the writing up a bit, too. I appreciate your patience as I work to get this all up. See you soon!


	2. The Power of Oatmeal

* * *

 

The next morning Trunks was awake as soon as the sun was set in the sky. He let out a primal coo, reaching for his toes to make sure that they were also awake and ready to wiggle. Having been adjusted to their daily routine, Bulma was already typing away at her computer in the other room. As soon as she heard the baby's babbles she pushed herself back from her desk and ran to grab him.

It was just like Trunks to be so eager to start his day, but to also give his mother a stern look when she made to pull him out of the crib. "Okay, okay. I forgot." Bulma replied, stepping back and crossing her arms. It was with this permission that Trunks pulled himself to a standing position using the rails of his crib. He looked over the edge, feeling somewhat intimidated by how far the fall would be if he failed.

Bulma pursed her lips, waiting for the moment she'd have to run to her baby's rescue.

Trunks held tightly to the crib rails, leaning as far out as could. This was a task he'd been trying to figure out for about a week. He was determined to master the technique of getting out of his own crib without the help of his mother. _Of course,_ it hadn't occurred to the baby yet that this would be a difficult thing to do when he wasn't even able to stand on his own yet. The baby glanced up to make sure his mother was ready - just in case he needed her.

"Well?" The Bluehead said. "Are you going to do it or not? I'm getting hungry."

Trunks responded by giving her his most _grownup_ glare he could muster - he didn't want her to know how intimidated he felt! Not when he was trying so hard to be _strong!_ With that, the baby kicked his leg over the rail of the crib. At least - that's what he'd been aiming to do. Instead, Trunks flung himself forward and began to fall headfirst, his body launching over the rails like a cannon ball. It was in that moment that he thought, ' _oops!'_ He closed his eyes, hoping that his beloved mommy would save him from the impending crash.

Bulma groaned. She had been waiting for this to happen - it'd been completely predictable. She opened her arms and jumped for the baby, catching him effortlessly. Trunks opened his eyes, safe in his mother's arms. He was feeling a bit frustrated that he had failed, _once again_ , to let himself out of his crib all on his own. But it was hard not to smile with the knowledge that his mom was always so quick to save him.

"Come on, one of these days I'm _not_ going to be here to catch you!" Bulma sighed. "Do we _have_ to go through this every morning?"

The baby could understand only a few words, and he could tell from her tone that she was warning him. It was hard to believe that his mother would ever let him down, though, so he found it funny! Trunks let out a giggle and clapped a hand on her shoulder.

Bulma rolled her eyes and planted a kiss on his forehead, turning to carry him downstairs for breakfast. He wasn't even walking yet, and already Trunks was threatening to give her a heart attack with his stunts. _'Oh well_ ,' Bulma thought. ' _He **is** Vegeta's son, after all._ ' She'd gotten a good night's sleep, her baby was happy, and it seemed that Mrs. Briefs was also in a good mood as well. The house smelled extraordinarily delicious - lit with an aroma of sizzling bacon and sweet sauces, just like an American breakfast! It was hard for Bulma _not_ to feel cheerful. She could tell that it was going to be a _very_ good day...

... At least, that _was_ how Bulma felt until she turned the corner into the kitchen. The first thing she saw was Vegeta sitting at the table and hungrily feasting away. The sight was enough to make her hair stand up. "What on Earth!?" She screeched.

In his typical saiyan manner, Vegeta was too preoccupied with his meal to notice her reaction. Instead Mrs. Briefs turned around from the stove and gave her daughter a bright grin. "Good morning, darlin'!" She called before turning back around to plate Bulma's food.

"No. No, no, no." Bulma said, shaking her head profusely. "What are _you_ doing here?!"

It was then that Vegeta finally looked up from his dish. When he saw Bulma he locked eyes with her, and slowly shot her a smirk.

 _The bastard!_ How dare he?! It didn't help matters that Vegeta was always so _charming_ when he wasn't scowling. For a moment Bulma _almost_ felt a familiar jolt in her heart, but she easily forgot about it when she remembered how infuriated she was.

"What's wrong, honey?" Mrs. Briefs asked, setting Bulma's plate down in the space next to Vegeta.

The Bluehead furiously walked to Trunks' high chair, seating him and angrily tying his bib on. As if on cue, Mrs. Briefs was instantly at Bulma's side, setting a warm bowl of oats down on the baby's tray. A wide smile fell on Trunks' face and he eyed his bowl with a look that said " _Alright! Oats!"._ Without hesitation, he jammed a hand into the bowl and began to sloppily eat.

"You have a _lot_ of nerve, don't you?!" Bulma snapped, turning to face Vegeta again. She placed her hands on her hips and glared, waiting for his response. The saiyan raised a coy eyebrow, not looking even slightly offended. "What _are_ you on about, woman?"

"Yeah, Bulma, what's goin' on?" Mrs. Briefs chimed in.

"Mo-THER! Stay out of this!" Bulma replied, to which Mrs. Briefs let out a soft "oh my!" before returning to her stove.

Vegeta pushed himself back from the table. "You've never had issue with me indulging in a meal before." He said calmly. Even his tone was irritating. That smirk - that _cocky_ smirk - Bulma could _hear_ it in his voice! " _That_ was before you made an _ass_ out of yourself!" She snapped, which resulted in a light giggle by means of Mrs. Briefs.

"GAHH!" Trunks cheered, clapping his hands with pure joy. The baby wasn't entirely sure of what was going on, but everything seemed to be escalating very quickly. _And_ his food was delicious! It was hard not to be amused by the scene taking place in front of him as he stuffed his face - especially since the altercation didn't seem too serious. It was all in good fun!

Vegeta took note of the boy's applause. He shook his head and chuckled, waving a finger. "Tsk, tsk, Woman. Such language in front of an infant?"

"I think he's right, honey!" Mrs. Briefs replied. "Bulma, Trunks is gonna be talkin' any day now! You don't want his first word to be a profanity!"

" _Mom!"_ Bulma groaned, whipping around to glare at her mother's backside. "You _aren't_ helping!" She then turned back to face Vegeta again, almost feeling dizzy from all of the spinning she was doing. "Vegeta! _You_ are one to talk about bad language!"

The saiyan stood from his chair and shrugged. "Whatever you say, woman." He turned as if to make his way for the door.

"Oh, no! Not so fast!" Bulma snapped. "Come back here and tell me _why_ you're having breakfast in _my_ kitchen!"

The saiyan wasn't one to take orders from _anybody_ , but this scene was so ridiculous that he wasn't feeling anything less than entertained. Vegeta turned to respond, but before he had a chance to speak he saw as Bulma was hit with something in the back of the head. The amused glint in Vegeta's eyes deepened, having seen what had just happened. The room fell silent as Bulma, still fuming, took a hand and gently placed it to the back of her head. There was a warm goo that was slowly starting to ooze down her neck.

"O... Oatmeal?" She whispered. She felt as her right eye began to twitch, and she wondered if it were possible that it would pop out of her face. Trunks had never done something like this before! Of all times that he could have chosen to start, it was when she was trying to rip a new one in Vegeta?! Bulma, using every fiber in her core to restrain from losing her temper at her son, turned slowly to look the baby. Trunks was happily flailing both of his messy hands in the air as he ate. "Trunks..." The disgruntled mother said, her voice quivering.

"GAH!" The baby replied, clapping his hands together.

Vegeta began to stifle a chuckle, but a second later he felt something warm collide into his right eye.

"GAH!" Baby Trunks screamed again. It was now Mrs. Briefs' turn to stifle a laugh.

"What?" Vegeta breathed, pulling warm outs from his face. "What _is_ this?"

"Oh, great! Look at you, Vegeta! You look _pathetic_!" The Bluehead announced. She put her hands on her hips, as if to make a point. Vegeta was in shock, staring at the mess in his hands. ' _I... I was once the ruler of an ENTIRE warrior race.'_ Vegeta found himself thinking. ' _Now... I stand here with breakfast smeared into my face...'_

"Well!?" Bulma snapped. Vegeta dumbly looked up to lock eyes with the woman again. His only condolence was that she didn't appear amused at all to see him in his state of vulnerability. _She just looked like Bulma, with that dangerous glower on her face..._ "Vegeta!" She yelled again.

"What _is_ it?!" The saiyan bit his lip.

"Didn't you hear a word I just said?! I _told you_ to go wash off!" The blue-haired vixen waved. Vegeta silently obeyed, turning for the living room. Bulma yelled after him. "And _don't_ go upstairs! _You_ only have priveleges to the shower in the ship!"

A moment later Vegeta was back in the kitchen, making his way to the back door. "I am a prince, woman..." He muttered, his voice shaking slightly. "I don't require _privileges_." Nevertheless, he stalked into the ship. And when he stepped into the bathroom he couldn't even bear to look at his reflection in the mirror.

"I cannot believe I have fallen victim to _oatmeal_ ," He thought coldly, grimacing as the water hit his skin.

* * *

Bulma ate ferociously after taking her own quick shower. She'd had _plans_ today, and now she was running late! The oatmeal had acted as an imitation of concrete, and it had taken her nearly an hour to completely wash it out of her hair. The people over at the Capsule Corp Office were going to be annoyed with her. They'd probably assume that we was purposely untimely, too, as if punctuality didn't apply to her because of her family name!

"I'll be back later! Thanks for watching Trunks, Mom!" Bulma called as she ran out the door. She was already digging in her pocket for the capsule containing her car.

"Ah, none of this would have happened if that _jerk_ hadn't been here this morning!" Bulma scowled. But why had Vegeta been eating breakfast in _her_ home, anyway? Wasn't _he_ the one who had announced that he had no desire to maintain contact after Cell was defeated? She was going to have to have a stern talk with him, but that would have to be saved for another time.

As for right now, she was running late!


	3. The New Guy

* * *

 

The sliding glass doors flew open, and Bulma stepped through and kicked the dust off her shoes. The smell of fresh technology was wafting through the lobby of the Capsule Corp headquarters, and as Bulma inhaled it she began to fall right back into an alter ego that she hadn't assumed for nearly three years.

"Ah, Mrs. Briefs. I was told to expect you!" A young receptionist cheered. Bulma looked up and raised her eyebrows. "Mrs.? I'm not married." She replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry! My mistake!" The receptionist jumped, shaking her head frantically. "I-Uhh...! Well, uh- anyway- uh, the Professor is waiting for you in his lab!"

Bulma smiled, and with a nod she walked off into the direction on her father's lab. As soon as she stepped into it she was hit with more familiarity. The odor of coffee, freshly printed blueprints, and stale books was overwhelming in Dr. Briefs' lab. The lab was dimly lit with fluorescent lights, half of which had burned out long ago and Dr. Briefs had hastily replaced with table-top lamps. "Hi Dad," Bulma began, but she quickly noticed that there was someone standing with him. The Bluehead, who _hated_ the idea of getting preferential treatment because of who her parents were, quickly stood up straighter. "Ah - I mean, good morning Dr. Briefs!" Mr. Briefs turned around, a long cookie poking out of his mouth as he chewed on it. "Ahhhh, Bulma dear! What took you so long?!"

 _What took her so long?_ The image of a bewildered Vegeta pulling oatmeal from his eye in horror flashed through Bulma's mind, and her mood suddenly dropped. "I was having trouble with Trunks this morning," She said bitterly, trying to force a smile on her lips. Mr. Briefs responded by promptly choking on his cookie. "That's a" _-cough-_ "scary face, dear." - _cough, cough.-_

Bulma had been so distracted by her father's choking fit that she'd forgotten about the man standing next to him. After Mr. Briefs finally finished his battle with the his jammed throat, he clapped a firm hand on the man's shoulder, gesturing to him warmly. "Anyway dear, this is Tadashi. He's our new intern, and today is his first day. You may remember stories of Haruto Saito, my old partner from my college days? Well, Tadashi is his very gifted nephew that we are excited to welcome."

Tadashi was a nervous wreck of a man, almost shivering when Dr. Briefs spoke his name. As soon as the introduction was concluded, the young man gave a quick bow. Bulma obediently bowed back, eyeing him silently. Bulma couldn't help but think that that Tadashi seemed familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on how. She could vaguely remember stories of Haruto, but she'd never met him in person, so there was no way that she and this new intern had ever crossed paths. "Nice to _meet_ you," Tadashi croaked, his voice growing noticibly higher in pitch when he uttered the word " _meet_ ". Bulma fought back a laugh, trying to maintain her professional composure.

"Since it is your first day at work after maternity leave, I thought it would be great if you could mentor Tadashi a bit." Mr. Briefs explained, happily munching on another cookie. Bulma's eyes widened, turning to her father in surprise. This was a complete shock to her, and she shot her father an incredulous look. He'd had plenty of opportunities to inform her that she'd be training someone as soon as she got into the office, and he hadn't said a single thing! ' _Wow, thanks Dad!'_ Bulma thought bitterly. _'It **is** just like him to forget to mention something like this to me!'_

Just then, a loud buzzer went off, causing both Bulma and Tadashi to jump in surprise. But while Bulma only seemed irritated by the interruption, Tadashi had a look of sheer trepidation on his face. "Oh, would you look at that. 10 O'clock already? I've got an important meeting to attend!" Mr. Briefs announced happily. "Excuse me, you two. I got to get started with this conference."

"But what about-" Bulma began, but Mr. Briefs had already turned and shuffled away.

Instantly the Bluehead could feel her cheeks growing warm. Her father had completely taken her off-guard by dumping the new intern into her hands, and he hadn't even discussed a game plan with her. She knew nothing about this boy or of what his responsibilities were supposed to be. _She'd only just started working again,_ and she wasn't even completely up to date on what the major projects for Capsule Corp were yet! Bulma's first instinct was to yell after Mr. Briefs, but she quickly remembered where she was. She _wasn't_ standing in the lab at their house - she was at work! So, with a deep breath, she put on her _professional_ face and slowly turned to look at Tadashi.

The blonde intern was scrambling to pick up a stack of papers that he had apparently dropped. There was sweat formed at his forehead, and as he scooped the papers up Bulma couldn't help but to think that he looked like some sort of lost puppy trying to find its way. ' _Oh, jeez...'_ Bulma thought as she stared, her smile dropping somewhat as empathy filled her veins. ' _This poor guy is more lost than I am!'_ And with that, she no longer found herself feeling as negative about having to train him. "Come on," She sighed. "Have you been shown around yet?"

* * *

Vegeta sat on the roof of the spaceship, looking down into the yard before him as baby Trunks crawled through the grass. A few meters away from the infant stood Mrs. Briefs, who was singing out loud as she worked her way through a basket of clothes that she was pinning on a line to dry.

It was strange how the saiyan felt as he watched the two. This feeling was something he'd encountered before - a sense of both guilt and duty that he had struggled with even before Trunks was born. The feeling had reached its peak when he'd gone off to space in effort to become a super saiyan, and Bulma had grown frustrated with his leave. Vegeta hated admitting it back then, and he even hated to admit it now... But he was fairly certain that it was an argument he'd had with that _woman_ that'd sent him over the edge to finally become the legendary. In fact, back then he'd been fairly certain that he'd lost her forever when he'd made the change...

Back then, just the mere idea that he was so _bothered_ by such a thing was a cold enough grief for him to face. In his mind was the constant battle between maintaining the cold-blooded warrior instinct instilled in his roots, and coming to terms with this strange sense of responsibility he felt towards the blue-haired beauty that he'd grown so fond of. He'd suppressed this feeling, though. He done it through training. _Training_ was all he'd ever really been good at, and for him it was an escape from absolutely _everything_ that bothered him - when his training sessions were successful, that is.

It wasn't entirely a conscious decision on his part. In fact, when he'd set off to train in seclusion in the woods after Trunks was born, he really hadn't planned for such a suppression to occur. But the more he worked alone, the more sucked in he found himself. It was easy enough to zone out and focus only on perfecting his forms, and it was a sensation that he become obsessed with. A good chunk of time had managed to pass by in this way, as he trained relentless each day. Bulma had described Vegeta as an addict. She said this to him during their final fight. That word irritated him. It was an Earth term, one he'd never heard before, but he could tell from the context that it was not meant to be a compliment. Vegeta was so wrapped up in his thoughts now that he forgot about the two Earthlings below him in the yard. The saiyan, now feeling frustrated from his musings, stood upright. Standing on the roof of the space ship, Vegeta took in a deep breath before letting out an angered yell. _What the hell **was** an addict, anyway?!_

Mrs. Briefs jumped from the sudden outburst, pulling the clothesline down with her as she crashed into the grass below. Trunks, who had been happily flailing a plastic shovel in the air, immediately broke into a loud sob. Breathing heavily, the terrified Mrs. Briefs anxiously looked around to identify the source of the loud noise that had startled her. Vegeta was still standing on the roof of the ship, his eyes widening as he came to his senses.

"Oh, Vegeta," Mrs. Briefs gasped when she saw him, pulling herself to her feet. "It was just you!" Her voice shook, and she made her way to Trunks, scooping him into her arms. The truth was that she'd already been feeling on edge that morning, and this sudden fright was only proving to further dampen her mood. "You really scared me, ya know!" Mrs. Briefs continued, her voice breaking. " _There, there_ Trunksy! Don't cry..." The grandmother sniffled. "Don't... cry. Don't you dare... _cryyyy!_ " And with that, she erupted into a heart-wrenching sob.

The Saiyan watched as both Mrs. Briefs and Trunks sobbed together in each other's arms. ' _Damn!'_ He thought in horror. He hadn't even gotten on Bulma's good side again, and now he'd put her mother in some sort of uncontrollable fit of hysteria. ' _She'll never forgive me for doing this!'_ The saiyan jumped from the ship, landing right next to Mrs. Briefs, who let out another scream from surprise. She jumped back, sobbing even louder now. "Vegeta! You just keep scarin' me!" She wailed.

"I'm not going to do anything!" Vegeta replied. He was trying to sound comforting, but it wasn't working. His words came out as a frustrated snarl, causing Mrs. Briefs to hiccup. "I know, dear!" She gasped. "But I was jus' so scared!"

The saiyan could feel sweat forming at his temple. "Stop it, then!" He snapped. "If you know that I am of no threat, then I demand you to stop sobbing!"

Mrs. Briefs shook her head, her cries continuing with vigor. Her face was growing puffy from her tears, and for the first time Vegeta thought he could see a resemblance between her and the baby. The saiyan closed his eyes, racing his mind to think of words he could use to try to console her. Finally, after a few moments of thought, Vegeta looked up.

"Look." He said, taking in a deep breath to try and keep his voice calm. Mrs. Briefs opened her eyes, her wails beginning to slowly fade. Vegeta took this as encouragement, so he continued. " I was merely thinking of the other woman of this house and got carried away. You are in no imminent threat. I didn't mean to alarm you." With that he patted the baby on the head, as if to emphasize his point.

" _Other woman_?" Mrs. Briefs squeaked. "So you don't care about _me?"_

Vegeta cringed as the woman before him erupted into yet another set of sobs.

* * *

Tadashi sat at the desk, looking over some of the blueprints that Bulma had given him. He eyed the sketches and calculations that were printed on the sheet, writing notes _just_ as she had instructed him to. _T'his isn_ ' _t so bad, after all!'_ The blonde thought. Tadashi was in his late teens, and he had just been accepted into the engineering program at a university that was inspired by the Capsule Corp name. He wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead, taking in a deep breath. This had an opportunity that he'd aspired for after hearing his uncle's amazing stories about working alongside Dr. Briefs. In fact, he's spent so much of his childhood fantasizing about this day, that when it finally came, he was nothing but an anxious mess, worrying about doing something wrong or embarrassing himself. This had been one of the most stressful days of his life - but as it was coming to an end he was starting to feel a bit more at ease.

Bulma had spent hours discussing simple concepts with him to try and get an idea on how much he already knew. She'd walked away to take care of a few things, feeling better about this intern than she had when they'd first met. Sure, he may have been fairly inexperienced and quite unconfident, but he seemed to understand a lot of what she discussed with him. And he seemed to have a desire for success - he seemed to _want_ to do good! Even though his apprehension was a big turn-off for her in colleagues, she couldn't help but to root for him. He had the potential to accomplish great things.

 _'Maybe he'll come around and impress us all,'_ She thought as she clicked away at her computer. Bulma let out a loud yawn, pausing with her work to stretch out her arms behind her head. Sure, she'd gotten to work a couple hours late, but this had been a _really_ long day regardless. Checking the clock, she saw that there was only 30 minutes left before she'd get to go home.

This was an exciting thought. It went without saying that Bulma wasn't used to being separated from her baby for so long. The idea of getting to wrap her arms around Trunks and plant a loving kiss on his forehead made her smile... But then she thought back on the events of that morning, and she quickly remembered _him._

_Vegeta._

What was _with_ him? That man was completely mental, she was sure of it. He'd treated her and Trunks so badly, but he didn't seem to know how to leave her alone when she finally tried to wash her hands of him. Why on _Earth_ was he still hanging around when he'd promised her that she'd never see him again once Cell was defeated?! It was as if he were teasing her! She didn't _need_ that in her life. He was making it incredibly difficult for her to move on, and she couldn't help but think that he was doing it on purpose.

Bulma scowled. _That bastard._ Pondering over Vegeta was putting her in a sour mood again - especially because she noticed that a tight feeling formed in her stomach when she remembered that smirk he'd shot her that morning. It was undeniable - Vegeta was a _very_ attractive man. But the butterflies that threatened her stomach were a hazard. She didn't like the idea of it, but she was _really_ going to need to talk with him. She was going to have to make it clear that he needed to leave her alone, for once and for all.

It was then that Bulma heard a sound behind her, and the Bluehead jumped in her chair. "What is it?!" She screeched, turning around to shoot a glare at whoever was disturbing her thoughts. Tadashi was standing right behind her, and he backed up with fear to see the fire in her eyes. "E-Excuse me!" He stuttered. "Dr. Briefs - I'm sorry! I just thought I would - well, it's 4 O'clock..."

Bulma's eyes widened. Once again, she'd forgotten that she was at work. The blue-haired scientist slouched in her seat, letting out a sigh. She couldn't help but feel guilty for snapping at the intern. Taking her anger out on him felt as if she'd lashed out at an unsuspecting child. It wasn't his fault that she was having issues at home. "I'm sorry, Tadashi. I didn't mean to be rude. I was just startled." She ran a finger across her temple, taking in a deep breath. "It's been a long day and I lost track of time."

The intern stepped back, giving her a bow. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks to see his supervisor letting her defenses down. She intimidated the hell out of him, but there was no denying the fact that Bulma was kind of _cute._

Opening her eyes, Bulma looked up to see Tadashi still standing over her, his own eyes slightly glazed over. She couldn't help but smile. ' _This kid wears his emotions on his sleeve!'_ She thought. ' _He kind of reminds me of Goku in a weird way...'_ And suddenly, with another jolt in her heart, Bulma's face dropped.

_Goku._

Oh, why did she have to go and think of him during such an inconvenient time? The scientist couldn't avoid the grief that washed over her entire body, and she turned away from the intern to hide her face.

Tadashi quietly watched her back as it trembled. He was still waiting for her to dismiss him from his shift, and he'd also seen that look on her face before she's turned away. The intern stood awkwardly as Bulma tried to get a grip on herself, biting on her knuckles to keep from letting out an audible cry. "That's fine, Tadashi." She choked. "You're dismissed. Thank you."

It was with this permission that the young blonde gave one last bow, backing out from the room. ' _Wow...'_ He thought, his cheeks now completely red. During the entire drive to his apartment, Tadashi found that he couldn't stop thinking about his new supervisor for one second. It wasn't only her cute face that he was thinking of as he blushed, but it was the way she'd behaved before he left. Bulma had looked so sad at the end of the day, and it concerned him.

 _'I wonder what was going on with her?'_ He thought as he let himself into his home. ' _I wonder if I should get her a gift or something to cheer her up...'_


	4. Vegeta, The Captive

* * *

 

It felt like it'd been hours that Mrs. Briefs stood sobbing. Trunks was crying along with her. She was honestly freaking him out, and the baby couldn't decide whether he wanted to be cradled, or if he just wanted her to put him back down in the grass so he could scurry away.

"Wo-man!" Vegeta groaned. He'd listened to her wails, and despite everything he'd tried she seemed to only bawl more. It was driving the saiyan to the brink of madness. ' _I_ ' _ve broken her.'_ He thought, a vein throbbing in his forehead. ' _I_ ' _ve broken her, and there_ ' _s no way I_ ' _m going to find amicability with Bulma now.'_

"Why are you still _crying?"_ He asked, his voice shaking as he fought to control his tone. Mrs. Briefs sniffled. "I just can't stop! You got me feelin' so emotional!"

_Emotional?!_

Vegeta was perplexed! He hadn't done anything to make her feel _emotional!_ The only thing he was guilty of was letting his thoughts get the best of him and wondering outloud what an _addict_ was! Vegeta took in a deep breath. This blonde woman was doing it - she was managing to _break_ the saiyan, just like he'd broken her! At this point he was beginning to feel completely deranged - he'd do _anything_ just to get her to cease with that infernal weeping. "What do you want, _woman_?!" Vegeta asked, his right eyebrow twitching slightly.

Mrs. Briefs' heart warmed when she heard him this. It was the most selfless question she could remember ever hearing leave the introverted saiyan's lips. " _Me_?" She replied, wiping the tears away from her eyes. Vegeta's face was sporting a pale shade of blue as he held his breath to keep from shouting. "Yes, _you_." He choked.

"Oh! I'd _love_ some help around the house!" She beamed. Vegeta watched her silently as he thought, 'W _hat does this have to do with me_?' Unfortunately for him, the housewife took the lack of an objection as a sign of approval. "Oh, _V!_ You really do care, you _doll!_ " Grabbing him by the wrist, she eagerly began to pull him towards to house. Baby Trunks, who was still being held with her other arm, was grimacing to hear his grandmother's voice reach such a high pitch.

* * *

Mrs. Briefs was singing along to an old CD of hers as she mended to some stitches of an old dress. There was a cake in the oven, stew boiling on the stove, and around her the house had been cleaned spotless. It'd been a successful day for the housewife, and she felt accomplished as she examined her stitch work. Unfortunately, not everyone in the room was in such a cheerful mood. Vegeta, who sat beside her on the floral couch, was biting his tongue. In his arms was the dress that Mrs. Briefs was mending, and he held it firmly in place for her as she sewed.

"Here, could you hold onto it like this?" Mrs. Briefs instructed, squinting her eyes in concentration as the gave her stitching a closer look. "Be very still, dear... I've gotta fix somethin' _real_ quick..." Vegeta's eyebrows furrowed. He was beginning to feel physically ill.

Mrs. Briefs had used the threat of sobbing and wailing in order to get him to do housework with her. At least, that's how Vegeta felt about it. And, technically, he really hadn't _done_ any house work, but she seemed happy enough as it was. In reality he had stood in the corner and watched as Mrs. Briefs cleaned the dishes, vacuumed the den, threw dinner together, and even rocked Trunks to sleep. Each time that the saiyan attempted to slip away, she'd let out a loud sniffle. " _You really must not care about keepin' me company, then!"_ She would begin to wail. And Vegeta, fighting back the urge to puke, would reluctantly return to the corner he stood in, watching her with crossed arms.

At one point, Mrs. Briefs did try to get the prince to assist her.

" _If my planet were still in tact, I would be a KING by now._ " Vegeta had grunted when Mrs. Briefs waved a feather duster in his face.

" _Oh, V? You mean ya don't wanna dust? It's my faa-vorite chore, ya know!_ "

The saiyan scowled even more before stating " _And my favorite pass-time is dismembering those who oppose me."_

Mrs. Briefs simply laughed at his response before turning and running to the shelf to start her adventure with the feather duster.

.

 **Hours**.

It'd been _hours_ that this crazy woman held him prisoner! The saiyan had been through a lot in his years - from losing his father, to carrying out death missions by orders of Frieza. But _this?_ _This_ was a challenge on a level he'd never faced before. The day was taking its toll on him, and the saiyan could feel the muscles in his chest trembling from the stress of it all.

"Ya hear, Vegeta? Can you pinch the cloth a little tighter? I gotta make sure this stitch is in tight!" Mrs. Briefs chimed, squealing out loud as she pushed the needle through the fabric.

"Ow!" Vegeta snapped, pulling his hand back. He just couldn't _take_ it anymore! He wanted to be on Bulma's good side, but _this_ was beyond ridiculous. He was starting to crack. "Damnit, _blonde woman!_ This is the fourth time you've poked me with that wretched needle!" It wasn't that the pin necessarily hurt when she prodded him with it, but it was incredibly annoying.

"Oh, did I prick ya _again?_ Sorry, V!" Mrs. Briefs giggled.

"My name is not _V_!" The enraged saiyan retorted. "I am to be addressed properly! Do you understand?!"

The blonde smiled, continuing with the work she did on the dress. "Just a little more!" She sang. "You're so helpful, Vegeta! My, we make a great team!"

"Your amusement mocks me," He growled, biting his cheek as he felt the needle dig into his skin yet another time. _What the hell was WRONG with this woman?!_ It was as if she'd been in some type of horrible accident that had rendered her completely insane.

It was just then that the front door swung open, and the room was instantly filled with sunlight for a brief second as Bulma stepped inside the house. The first thing that Vegeta heard was Bulma letting out a horrified screech. "What the _hell_?!" She had her hands on her hips as she peered into the room with shock. "Vegeta?! What are you doing to my Mom?!"

Vegeta didn't want her to see him in this state. It wasn't fair - his mental facilities had been worn away by this blonde woman's behavior. He'd felt like he'd had to resort to becoming a hollow shell of himself in order to avoid responding in a way that would distress the blonde any more than he already had. This wasn't something he'd agreed to in a proper frame of mind!

"There we go! All done!" Mrs. Briefs sang, seemingly oblivious to her daughter in the room. She pulled the dress out of Vegeta's grasp and held it up to admire her work. It was a good thing she'd done this though, because at that exact moment the saiyan was jumping up from the couch and letting out a frustrated yell. "It isn't what it looks like, _woman_!" He barked.

Bulma crossed her arms with a sneer. "Oh, really? It looked like you were hand sewing with my Mom."

"Oh, and he's _so_ helpful, too!" Mrs. Briefs chimed in.

"I _am_ not!" Vegeta yelled. He'd only been watching, and even then it was because Mrs. Briefs had manipulated him into doing it. He was the victim of circumstance, and that was all! "You take that back, blonde woman!"

"I can't handle this right now, I've had a _very_ long day!" Bulma waved her hand at the two as she shook her head. "I'm going to go take a bath." She turned, starting to make her way for the stairs. "Oh, and Vegeta? Get _out_ of my house, okay?! I will talk to you _later._ "

He'd been held prisoner by the blonde woman for the entire day. He'd endured torture and bitten his tongue _just_ for the chance to speak with Bulma, and she had the nerve to kick him out? If he hadn't been so desperate to escape from the clutches of that _mad_ woman, Vegeta would have been pissed. "I was _not_ sewing, I said!" He barked, but the saiyan raced for the door regardless. Even as the blonde woman jumped to his defense, he didn't care to look back. "Bulma, what a rude thing to say!" Mrs. Briefs was scolding, but Vegeta was already stepping outside as he dashed for his freedom. It was as if he were underwater, trying desperately to make his way out so he could get a breath of air.

The saiyan continued running, leaving the Briefs property behind and making his way into the grove that was located not too far from the house. Safe inside the woods, Vegeta leaned against a tree as he emptied his stomach into the soil below. His limbs were trembling as his body took revenge on him for what he'd subjected it to. Coughing and groaning, he desperately tried to rid his mind of the image of Mrs. Briefs sweeping her floors and demanding that Vegeta stay with her. His stomach lurched in a painful manner each time he thought of Mrs. Briefs calling him _V._

"Bulma! She didn't even let me speak with her!" He growled between gasps after his sickness had subsided. "I'll be damned if I went through that type of Hell for no reason!"

But still, the saiyan couldn't bear the thought of subjecting himself to Mrs. Briefs quite yet. "No, there's _no damned way._ " He shivered, shaking his head firmly... "I'll wait until that blonde woman can't get me. _Then_ I am going to see Bulma, whether she wants me to or not."

* * *

It was nearly 10 P.M., and Bulma had just put Trunks to bed for the night. She was changing into her sleeping clothes in her room. She was tired and irritable, and ready to just sink into her sheets. Trunks, who was not used to spending the entire day away from his mother, was deeply upset with her for leaving him alone with Mrs. Briefs for so long. If only he could talk, he'd go into detail about the things he'd witnessed that day. The things he'd seen her do to his daddy!

Not only was she irritable from her fatigue, but Bulma was also still feeling cross from the way her mother acted towards her. While the family ate dinner, Mrs. Briefs had given Bulma a relentlessly hard time over how she'd spoken to Vegeta. The saiyan did not return to the house to eat, and while the Bluehead didn't mind this, Mrs. Briefs found it worrisome. " _Bulma, I told you that you were bein' too hard on him! He's gonna go hungry_!" She'd scolded. " _Who cares, Mom?! I told you to stay out of our business_!" had been Bulma's reply. " _Vegeta's a jerk, and he can fend for himself!_ "

" _But he's just a dear! He was so helpful today_!" Mrs. Briefs had insisted. Bulma didn't like hearing that from her mother. The image of Vegeta sitting with her as Mrs. Briefs sewed a dress was one that Bulma desperately wanted to forget. She'd seen the look of pain on his face, but that didn't take away from the fact that he'd actually _done_ it. And the way Mrs. Briefs raved about him was just too much. Something like this was so out of character for him. None of it made any sense at all!

And, to be quite honest, the thought of it was kind of creeping her out...

 _'Why should I care?'_ Bulma thought as she crawled into bed and shut off the light. _'I **don't** care WHAT he does! But... just not sewing dresses with my mom...'_  The Bluehead fought back a disgusted shiver, her head sinking deeper into the pillow. ' _Right, just clear your head, Bulma... Forget about him and go to sleep...'_

Sleep hit her in the same way that the ocean would suddenly grow deeper as a tide came in. Her limbs grew heavier with each second while her head began to feel as if it were floating away. No longer was Bulma concerned with how stressed she was with work, how upset she was with Vegeta or her mom, or about how much of a handful Trunks had been that day. Her mind was pleasantly empty, and it acted as a blank slate for her brain to paint a dream on.

She was in that blissful state between the real world and sleep.

 _'Is this what it feels like to be floating through space?'_ Bulma found herself wondering as pink hues began to flash before her closed eyes. Her body was sinking deeper into her mattress, and she could feel herself being sucked into a world of purple roses and bright trees. It felt so real when her bare feet touched soft grass as she was placed into her fantasy...

But her eyes abruptly flew open, her body jumping as she quickly woke. She clutched her blanket and listened to a noise that had suddenly woken her up. Feeling a bit unnerved, the Bluehead quickly realized that it was the sound of something scratching the glass of her window.

* * *

 


	5. The Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have been enjoying this story so far!

* * *

The sound of something scratching at her window was growing louder. Bulma's first instinct was to scream, but she quickly remembered how difficult it had been to get Trunks to sleep. So, instead, she took in a sharp breath and closed her eyes. ' _Right, this could be many things.'_ She told herself. ' _It could be a tree... or an owl, maybe?'_ But, as the seconds passed and she grew more awake and aware of her surroundings, the Bluehead began to think more logically. There was no tree close enough to hit against her window like that. And the more she listened, the more it sounded like it was some _one_ rather than some _thing._

"That bastard!" Bulma breathed. She threw the covers off and jumped from her bed, not even bothering to click on the light. She was starting to make her way to the window, but before she had time the glass gave out. With one more scratch, the window shattered and glass shards flew into the room. Bulma let out a squeak and fell back to avoid getting hit by any of it. She landed on her bed, and looked up to watch as the figure of a very familiar man pulled himself into the room. Bulma immediately turned to click on the light, looking over her shoulder to shoot a scowl at Vegeta. The saiyan, who was completely unperturbed by broken glass, brushed a few loose shards off his arms as he grumbled under his breath.

Out in the hallway were the sounds of footsteps heading for her door. A turn of the knob was unsuccessful because it was locked, so Mr. Briefs called "Bulma? Are you alright in there?"

Bulma let out an exasperated groan. She rushed for the door and cracked it open to avoid having to yell back. "Yes Dad, I'm fine! I just dropped a glass of water!" She whispered, hoping that the baby hadn't stirred from his rest.

"Well, that was a _loud_ glass of water!" Mr. Briefs replied. His daughter just shot him a grin and rolled her eyes. "You're exaggerating, Dad..."

A few moments later Mr. Briefs was gone, and Bulma turned around to eye Vegeta, her back against the door. "Are you _crazy_?!" She hissed. The saiyan was watching her sternly, and he crossed his arms to make sure she knew he was being serious. "I've come to speak with you."

"Really? It seems more like you came to break my window!" Bulma replied. "Look at this mess!"

Vegeta marched through the broken glass, which crunched under the feet as he moved. He grabbed the bewildered woman by the wrist and began to pull her back towards the window. "We will talk outside. I don't wish to have this conversation in a vicinity where your mother will find us." Bulma fought against him as he pulled her. "Are you _crazy_!?" She hissed for the second time that night. "I'm not walking through broken glass, it'll destroy my feet!"

The saiyan didn't bother to argue. She had a point - he'd forgotten of how _weak_ humans could be! Without hesitation he turned, picked her up, and slung her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a piece of paper. Bulma, who wasn't a fan of being handled in such a way, instantly responded by fighting against him. The Saiyan could hardly care as she scratched and kicked - it didn't hurt him in the slightest. He, however, wasn't used to having her rear so close to his cheek, and this sensation wasn't quite as easy to ignore. Making his way across the room and pulling them both out through the window, he couldn't help but to grin as her ass slapped him in the face a few times with her struggle. "Calm down!" He finally grunted, stepping out from the window's ledge.

She felt the wind hitting her in the face as they flew through the air. Safe outside, where there was no threat of waking her family, Bulma yelled "Let go of me! _Vegeta!_ I'm cold! Put me _down!_ " The saiyan smirked as she kicked him in the rib - _the impact felt like a mere jab._ "Oh, are you _sure_ you want me to let go of you? From all the way up here?" He joked, not bothering to lower them back to the safety of the ground. Bulma's eyes were still clenched shut as they continued soaring across the sky. In fact, they nearly felt like they were going to explode as the blood rushed to her head. "Where are you taking me?!" She demanded, to which he replied "I'm taking you to a place where we can speak in solitude!"

Letting out a loud groan, the Bluehead finally ceased her thrashing. "Would you at least hurry it up, then!?" She trusted Vegeta enough to know that he wasn't planning anything malice, but she hated how powerless she felt in the situation. It was pissing her off - _she'd have to be sure to make it known when they landed._

Their flight really didn't take too long. It was only a few minutes later than Vegeta finally descended back onto the Earth, gently setting Bulma back on her feet. She felt a bit dizzy as she caught her balance, wobbling as the blood finally drained from her head. " _Great!"_ She moaned, looking around to study her surroundings. "I have no shoes, and now my feet will get dirty!" The two were standing in what she could see as an empty field of grass, with not a building or even a tree in sight. The moon was the only source of light, illuminating enough for Bulma to be able to see a little bit around her.

"Must you find a fault with everything, Woman?" Vegeta grunted, raising his eyebrows as he looked his woman over.

" _You're_ one to talk!" She snapped, turning back to the saiyan to shoot him a glare. "Why'd you bring me here?! We could have just gone into the ship, y'know!"

"Enough with your complaining!" Vegeta retorted. "I already told you that I wish to speak with you in solitude, and the ship is too close to that _blonde_ woman for my comfort right now!"

" _Really?_ Oh, but Mom said you guys had the _best_ time today!"

"Don't speak of that, woman!" Vegeta shivered. "Your mother was exceptionally weepy today..."

"What?" The Bluehead raised her eyebrows, dropping her offensive demeanor. "Was she? Well, this morning she _was_ talking about how lonely she was going to feel now that I'm going back to work..." She put a finger to her chin as she thought. "Poor Mom, I hope she didn't feel _too_ alone!"

Vegeta had a flashback to Mrs. Brief's threatening to cry when he'd attempted to leave her in the kitchen. ' _Great.'_ He thought. ' _The blonde one used me to avoid sinking in the sorrows of her own seclusion.'_ Fighting back a gag, he shook his head. "That is beside the point! When you kicked me out today you made the promise that we would talk, and I intend to make sure you fulfill it."

"Right, _well_ you should have come back sooner!" Bulma crossed her arms. "I didn't mean for you to drag me out of bed like this! I have work tomorrow!"

 _Did the woman not think_? Vegeta rolled his eyes. He'd already told her more than once that he wanted to avoid Mrs. Briefs. Did he _really_ need to explain why he'd waited so long before returning to the house?

"You have some nerve, anyway!" She continued, standing up as straight as she could manage. "I thought you were planning to leave Earth after you fought the Androids! Why are you still harassing me!?"

"Woman..." He said, but she ignored him.

" _We made an agreement, and I've actually been sticking to it_!"

Vegeta placed his palms on her shoulders, gripping them firmly in an attempt to silence her tirade. She ignored him yet again.

" _I've got too much shit on my plate for me to have to deal with you on top of it!_ "

"Woman..." Vegeta repeated, grabbing Bulma's chin and holding it firmly. _This_ finally got her attention. A spark ran through her body, her eyes widening. She paused with her rant, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at him in anticipation. The saiyan was staring into her eyes, reveling in the silence as they watched one another. She wasn't pushing him away. She wasn't even yelling or objecting in the slightest, so Vegeta took this as the permission he needed to proceed. Without saying anything else, he leaned closer towards her soft face.

It all seemed as if it were in slow motion.

The way Vegeta closed his eyes as he drew nearer. The manner in which he tilted his head slightly to a side as he prepared for the impending caress of skin. Bulma suddenly felt both eager and horrified, her mind struggling to find the appropriate way to react...

...When his lips brushed against hers, she felt another spark running through her body, traveling down her back like goosebumps as pulled her close. He didn't wrap his arms around her - he merely grabbed her by the cloth of her shirt and pulled her body into his. The sensation was so familiar, and there was a repressed habit telling Bulma to deepen the kiss and take it further. Yet there was another part of her that told her to stand her ground, making her want to shove him away and yell about his actions. Unable to determine what exactly to do, the Bluehead stood still, her lips receiving the kiss with no reaction. Vegeta took it as a good sign that she didn't retaliate with the palm of her hand. But he also noted her lack of encouragement, and after a few moments he let go of her and stepped back to look in her eyes.

"Did you listen to anything I just said?" She scowled, wiping at her mouth for effect.

The saiyan frowned. He'd foreseen that she would be difficult, but he was still finding it a challenge to decide how to convince her. He thought the kiss might have at least calmed her down enough to be more reasonable. "Do not make me spell it out, Woman."

"You've been a real jerk to me." She replied, rubbing at her arms. She was only dressed in her sleeping clothes, and the chilly night air was starting to get to her.

"I'm _trying_ to make it up to you," He groaned. Vegeta wasn't good at expressing himself - he hated having to admit to such things, and she was really pushing him at his limits. "Isn't it obvious with how I've stayed?"

"How can I trust _anything_ that you say or do?" Bulma retorted. "How many times have you told me one thing and then done something else?"

The saiyan didn't blame her for it. He'd expected this, and in a way it actually made him respect her even more. He'd said quite a number of nasty things to her over the years that they'd known each other, and it'd reached its peak only recently. After Trunks was born, she seemed to merge into a softer form of herself. He'd noticed it from the way she interacted with everything around her. But in this moment it seemed as if she were returning to the Bulma that he'd come to know when he'd first been invited to stay at the Briefs residence. There was a stubborn fire in her eyes that refused to fade out, and he knew it was futile to continue when she was this riled up.

As he looked her over, he could see her slowly starting to tremble. She was still rubbing her arms softly, attempting to soothe how chilly the wind was making her. Her teeth were beginning to chatter, though it was obvious that she was trying her best to hide it. "Are you cold?" Vegeta asked, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't really considered that she wasn't dressed to be outdoors when he'd taken her away from her room.

Bulma shook her head. "I'm fine." She lied. Vegeta smirked, not saying anything in response. He stepped further back from Bulma, his fingers clasping his own shirt as he pulled it off over his head.

"Here." He grunted, thrusting the fabric into her hands. "What?" She asked, trying not to eye his bare chest as he stood in front of her. He seemed so relaxed, so undisturbed by the night air. It was as if nothing unusual were taking place! Another gush of wind blew in, causing her hair to fly out behind her as she fought back the urge to shiver. "Put it on." Vegeta ordered, crossing his arms.

"I don't want this?" Bulma replied. "I didn't ask you for this!"

"Woman, I need that cloth less than you do. While I recognize how cold it is right now, it doesn't bother me. It was years ago that I became acquainted with freezing temperatures. I've traveled to planets completely covered in ice - this is nothing. Now, are you going to put it on or not?"

She quickly obliged, her cheeks blushing as she pulled the shirt over her torso and slipped her arms into its long sleeves. With a sigh of relief, the Bluehead ran a hand through her hair and looked to her feet. The shirt wasn't exactly made with thick material, but at least it was something. The added layer of clothing was enough to do wonders in alleviating her shivers.

"Is that better?" The saiyan asked, slightly annoyed with the fight she'd put up. Bulma nodded quietly, taking in the scent that wafted off the cloth. _Pine trees._ She was surrounded by it, and as the odor went to her brain she was instantly reminded of the early days of her and Vegeta's relationship - how new and safe it felt when he'd first wrapped his arms around and held her close. There was a battle in her mind as she struggled between wanting to give into his advances, and wanting to stay true to her own stance. She'd _told_ herself that she and Trunks were better off without Vegeta. She'd promised herself that she'd do _everything_ she could to make things right for her son, and she couldn't give that up simply because her emotions were tempting her...

"I guess we should go back." Vegeta said, disrupting the Bluehead's thoughts. He turned around and looked over his shoulder, gesturing at it. Having been preoccupied with her own thoughts, Bulma didn't quite register what the Saiyan was wanting her to do, and she made it known with the face she gave him. Vegeta smirked. "We can do this the hard way and I can sling you over my back again, if you'd like."

It was then that Bulma realized what he'd been gesturing, and she gasped. There was no way she'd let him handle her so uncomfortably again! She ran, jumping on his back and wrapping her arms over his shoulders. "You ready?" He asked. She was sinking into him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder blade. Her face nodded against his skin in response to his question, having been rendered completely mute by the conflict that was taking place in her mind. It was with this that the saiyan placed a hand over her arm, as if to confirm she was holding on. Then, a brief second later, they were taking off into the sky.

She kept her face pressed against him during the majority of the flight back. The shirt had helped with the cold when she'd first put it on, but the wind chill was starting to make her freeze all over again. Vegeta noted how it felt to have her nuzzling against his skin as he flew, and his mind was racing. He knew that he wanted to tell her how he felt, but how could he convey this to her when he wasn't exactly sure how to put it into words? He was flying slower than normal to prolong the trip, unsure of how to address things with her and not yet ready to lose his chance. When they were getting near the proximity of the house, Vegeta finally said "the boy who came from the future was raised well."

Bulma lifted her cheek from Vegeta's shoulder and opened her eyes to look at the back of his head. Had he _really_ just said that? Future Trunks had been on her mind on and off since his departure, but she hadn't expected him to really care. She'd heard the story about how Vegeta reacted when Cell attacked Trunks, but the saiyan never spoke of it or indicated that it was on his mind in the slightest. He was so arrogant, and she just assumed that he'd forgotten about the incident, returning to his routine thought process that seemed to only revolve around himself.

Finally, after moments of consideration, the Bluehead replied. "He was raised without a father, you know."

"I know. And his mother raised him exceptionally well." Vegeta glanced over his shoulder at her. Once again, despite the cold, Bulma could feel heat rising at her cheeks. Was this some strange form of a compliment that he'd just given her? _Her_ Trunks was still a baby... Being told that she'd done a good job with something that hadn't actually occurred yet was not exactly a normal thing, and she certainly hadn't been expecting it. Especially not from _him!_

"Yes. Yes, he was..." Bulma breathed, laying her head back down to rest against Vegeta's back. "You know, he really is a great man - even if he _doesn't_ have a tail." She simply couldn't help throwing it out there, and Vegeta received her verbal jab with a grunt.

The two didn't exchange any more words for the rest of the flight home.

* * *

Back at the Brief's residence, Vegeta kept her on his back as he walked through the pile of broken glass that was still in Bulma's floor. He placed her down next to her bed with a sigh.

Bulma instantly pulled Vegeta's shirt off and handed it back to him, though she was secretly sad to part with its scent. The saiyan accepted it without a word, nodding in her direction. Without putting it on he turned, stepping back through the glass and stopping at the window frame. With his back still to her, he cleared his throat. "I am not going to stoop low enough to stalk you, Woman. If you do not want me staying here, then I will respect your will."

Somehow, Bulma was feeling offended by his sudden announcement. ' _Well, how typical!'_ She thought, her eyebrows furrowed. _'I **knew** he wouldn't stay!' _ She glared at his back, and even as she considered his words she couldn't help but wonder why she even cared.

"Know this, though." Vegeta continued. "I will not reside here, but you will see me again. I intend to fulfill my duties."

 _Oh, of course._ The man who was afraid of commitment was making sure to keep some loopholes open! Bulma crossed her arms. " _What_ duties?"

"Ultimately, you and the boy are of kin to me. If you do not want me around long term, then so be it. But you will need someone to protect you in the event of conflict. I don't know where the one from the future learned how to fight, but the infant will need to be trained as he grows."

 _Yet another confusing statement._ Bulma found herself feeling less defensive, taking in the words he'd spoken with shock. _He was concerned for her well-being?_

She couldn't think of a way to reply, falling back on her bed and continuing to stare at Vegeta's backside. His hands were balled into fists, his posture stiff, and his head held high. He did not turn around to look at her again - he simply said "That is all, Woman."

Then, as Bulma's heart pounded, she watched as he disappeared once more into the night sky.

* * *

 


	6. Break Time

* * *

Bulma had just spent the last hour writing up plans only to realize she'd made a drastic mistake. She threw her pen down with a curse, and that sound alone made the assistants in the other room jump. It'd been two days - two _long_ days, and she still hadn't fully recovered from the sleepless night she'd experienced due to Vegeta.

"Damnit, damnit, _damnit_!" She ripped the blueprint from the table and wadded it into a large ball. " _Fuck!_ " Her temper was steadily rising with each moment, and she felt as if she were about to have a break down. She was exhausted, having hardly gotten any sleep at all for the past two days. Not only was she having to stay in the guest bedroom until her window could be fixed, but the guest room was the same one that Vegeta had slept in. Despite how many times the sheets had been washed, and how many months had passed since he'd used the bed, Bulma couldn't shake the feeling of his presence in that room. Too many memories had occurred in there for her comfort. They'd argued in that room, they'd made love in that room. Why, she'd even taught him the concept of a down comforter in that room! And she could swear, as she laid in the bed, that she could still feel contours of his body in the mattress from when he'd slept. It was enough to make her head spin, as she would count the hours that passed with no trace of sleep.

What more, the scenes that took place only a couple nights earlier wouldn't cease replaying in her mind. The way his lips had felt, the image of his bare chest. The way his shirt smelt and the way he looked at her when he'd complimented Trunks... _Why did her stomach tighten when she thought of it?_ She'd tried so hard to make things work, and after all of that turmoil she'd finally come to the realization that she had to move on. _All_ she wanted now was for him to leave her alone, and _this_ was when he finally decided that he was going to make an effort?

_It just wasn't fair!_

There was a blend of emotions welling up inside, and she couldn't determine what to make of anything. She didn't know what to think or what to believe. _It wouldn't be beyond Vegeta to be doing this as some type of manipulation tactic,_ he was _just_ that coy! But, then again, it was hard for Vegeta to compliment anyone other than himself. He wouldn't have said those things about Trunks if he hadn't meant it!

… _Right?_

" _Fuck!"_ Bulma groaned again, pushing herself up from the table and turning away. She needed to do something to distract her from her own thoughts, even if it was simply by getting a drink of water.

It was when she opened the door to her office that she jumped back with a squeal. " _What are you **doing**?!" _ She snapped, irritated at being startled. In the doorway stood Tadashi, who appeared as if he were trying to ward off a heart attack. "I... I wanted to..." He stuttered, clutching a few papers in his hands. Bulma watched as the intern gulped before forcing a smile. "I have these reports, just like you wanted them..."

Bulma smiled back as she observed his mannerisms. He was about the same age as Future Trunks, give or take a few years. He acted so awkward that it almost struck her as pathetic, and she couldn't help but to feel both pity and amusement. Her anger was starting to subside when he handed her the stack of printouts that he'd made. "Tadashi, I'm sorry. I guess we both just got startled." Bulma sighed, waving the papers at him.

The intern grinned back. His heart rate was returning back to normal, and his shaking fingers were beginning to steady. Tadashi had always been observant and somewhat antisocial, but there was something about Bulma that magnified this. She was just so damned confident, unlike any other woman he'd ever encountered before. He'd known many girls that had been sure of themselves, but none of them ever held their head up the way Bulma did. No other girl he'd ever met gave off such an aura of authority and self-assurance the way she did, either, and he found himself wanting to be on her good side so badly. Whenever she looked at him he felt a rush inside, and an eager fear of wanting to say the right thing took him over. It was incredibly inhibiting, but when she smiled at him it all felt worth it.

Bulma was back in her office now, setting the stack of papers on her desk. "I'm going to get something to drink. Are you on break?"

* * *

Out in the wilderness, where the birds sang to the clouds and the sound of running water could be heard coming from every direction, Vegeta was knelt next to a stream that he was drinking from. He could sense Bulma's ki rising with her anger, and he found it interesting. He really didn't have to be with Bulma or Trunks in order to get an idea of their status - all he had to do was zero in on their ki. He could tell whether or not something odd was happening based on how angry or neutral the two were. Bulma's ki was considerably more low than any of the warriors Vegeta had battled, but it did not cease to amuse him when it rose with her as she became enraged. For a human she was a force to be reckoned with, and at that exact moment Bulma was apparently quite pissed. Vegeta hadn't really cared too much about tracking her ki before he'd left her in her room that night, but he'd noticed how sporadic it seemed to be since then. The saiyan smiled at his own reflection in the water below him, considering what it possibly was that had caused her mood to swing so much.

She really did have a good reason to be angry with him, but she was also being ridiculously stubborn. Sure, she could act tough, but perhaps her bluff was starting to show through. Her moods seemed to confirm that he'd made an impact on her that night.

It'd be a lie to say that she hadn't made an impression on him, either. He hadn't been so physically _close_ to her in a very long time, and he was surprised that it still affected him to feel her skin. In fact, he had a hard time coming to terms with such an emotion, but feeling her ass slap against his cheek as she struggled against him made him feel nothing short of _delight_.

 _'Yes...'_ Vegeta thought, smirking as he recalled that night. She was as difficult as could be, but he'd enjoyed her company. And he was pretty sure he'd made a mark on her - whether she particularly _appreciat_ _ed_ it or not.

It was good to know that even after being such an ass to her at times, Bulma was still greatly affected by Vegeta whenever he was in her presence. Being on her bad side wasn't exactly a desirable place to be in, but he was starting to think that he just needed time to get through. He wondered if it wouldn't be too soon to pay her another visit, noting that her temper was once again starting to dim back down.

"This isn't over yet, is it?" He grunted. The birds in the trees around him seemed to be laughing in agreement with his comment, and he grinned.

* * *

Tadashi watched as Bulma pressed her cup of tea to her lips and sucked at it. She was sitting across the table from him as they sat in the break room, and she hadn't spoken a word since they'd left her lab. She was looking a bit pale, but as she sipped her drink the color seemed to return to her cheeks. She seemed so focused on her current task that the intern began to wonder if she had forgotten about him altogether. It had been minutes of silence in which she hadn't said a word - she hadn't even looked at him! The blonde intern pursed his lips, trying to think of an appropriate way to break the ice. He'd settled on bringing up the paperwork she'd had him do that morning, but that was when Bulma finally spoke.

"So, what do you think so far?" She asked calmly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, not looking up from her tea.

 _What a letdown._ He was nervous, but he'd still been hoping that she'd at least make eye contact with him. Tadashi cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. "I like it here - I mean, I'm still learning... but everyone is _great_!"

It was at this that Bulma giggled, finally looking up. "That is such a load of rehearsed _b_ _ullshit!_ " She set her cup of tea down on the table. Tadashi couldn't help but to smirk, though his heart was pounding in his chest. She was just so blunt! It was refreshing! … Even if it _was_ terrifying to be on the receiving end of it.

 _Why on Earth did he feel so self-conscious when he was around her_? Tadashi gulped. _Why couldn't he get a grip on himself?_

Bulma sensed the intern's anxiety, and she wondered if she'd been too harsh. Tadashi seemed pretty fragile - and she didn't want to do anything to traumatize the poor boy! "You're doing a good job." She offered. "I was only joking - I just meant that I must be pretty stressful to work with."

 _Stressful?_ Tadashi was surprised. Why, sure, he felt stressed when he was around her. But it wasn't her fault that she made such an impression of him. "There's nothing wrong with you!" He blurted, choking back on his own tea. "It-it's really nice working under you..."

Bulma fought back the urge to laugh again. She was used to interns trying to impress her, but something about him seemed so genuine. It was hard for her not to chuckle when he beamed at her like a small child and spoke as if he were just discovering how something worked for the first time. Once again, Bulma felt a strange sensation when she realized that his mannerisms reminded her of Goku at times. Goku was the _only_ other adult man she'd ever met who acted so shamelessly naïve.

"Miss?" Tadashi was saying, and Bulma looked up from her lap to smile at him.

"Are you okay?" He continued. "You don't look so good..."

As soon as he said this Bulma suddenly felt as if her head was going to explode. When had she developed such a migraine? She put her hand to her temple and groaned out loud, letting out a slow string of curses.

"Are you alright?" Tadashi asked again. He was concerned for her, but he also somehow felt as if it were some kind of prank that she was suddenly acting so vulnerable.

.

Another 3 hours had passed before it was the end of her work day, and Bulma didn't feel one bit better when she clocked out. Her migraine had grown so bad that she was almost feeling nauseous, and she groaned as she dug in her purse for her car's capsule. "What a perfect day for Dad to take off early..." She muttered, lamenting her drive home. Her throat was starting to feel a bit sore, and she was pretty sure that she was getting sick.

"Miss?" Tadashi called into her lab from the doorway.

Bulma, who was putting so much focus on trying to find her capsule so that she could finally head home, didn't want to be interrupted. She let out a groan and tried to ignore him, cursing as she turned her entire purse over and emptied it on her desk. Tadashi stepped into the office, watching as she whisked through the pile she'd just made. She was breathing heavily, her shoulders slouched as she worked.

"Finally!" Bulma grunted when she wrapped her fingers around the yellow capsule. She took in a deep breath, her lungs feeling reluctant as they filled with air. It was then that she looked up, still feeling annoyed that the intern hadn't taken a hint in leaving her alone. "Didn't your shift end half an hour ago?"

Tadashi shrugged, taken aback by the harshness of her words. His shift _had_ ended, but he'd stayed behind. He'd gotten her a small present to show his appreciation to her, and he'd been trying to find the courage to actually give it to her. But now that he watched her, knowing that most of the employees of Capsule Corp were in the process of leaving for the day, he began to grow worried. "Should you be driving?" He asked. Her cheeks were flushed as she breathed, but somehow her face still looked translucent. A few drops of sweat were forming at her forehead, and he was sure she was coming down with a fever.

"I'm fine!" Bulma replied. All she could think of in that moment was how badly she wanted to just get home and lay down. She'd done her part in being kind to the intern, but now it felt as if he were an obstacle that was coming between her and her bed. "If you'll excuse me, I need to be going."

She made to walk past, but he stepped in her way. "Oh, what _is_ it!?" She grunted. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm in a hurry!"

Tadashi looked nervous by her words, but he stood tall regardless. Bulma couldn't help but think that this was the first time she'd ever seen him looking remotely sure of himself. "You shouldn't be driving - you look really bad."

"I probably will be taking a sick day tomorrow, yes." Bulma sighed. "But really, I'm fine. I have no other option, anyway."

The blonde intern shook his head. "Which part of town do you live in?" When Bulma replied, he shook his head. "That's on the way home for me. I'll give you a ride."

Bulma felt her cheeks flushing even more. " _That_ would be inappropriate!" She hissed.

"It'd be inappropriate to let you go home and pass out while you're driving." Tadashi shook his head. "Your father knows my uncle, right? And we _work_ together, don't we?"

The Bluehead couldn't help but to feel tempted by his offer. The more time that she spent talking, the more steadily her body felt worse. The thought of having to drive herself home felt almost unbearable, and he had a point. He wasn't some creep that was trying to hit on her - he was just a kid! And they _were_ coworkers after all...

 _'Fine.'_ She thought reluctantly. "This isn't a normal situation. Just this once."

She was feeling so awful at the moment that she couldn't even foresee anything going wrong.

* * *

Vegeta was flying through the air, back on his way to the Briefs household.

_Back to her._

When he'd left her in her room he hadn't planned on being gone for long. He was hoping that she'd use the time alone to consider her actions, and perhaps regret sending him away. But he'd made a vow that he'd look over his woman and child, and it was a pledge that he intended to keep.

Sure, she didn't seem to be nearly as angry as she had been earlier, but he still wasn't going to let his guard down. It certainly wasn't unlikely that Bulma would send him away without hearing him out again. The thought alone made him chuckle.

Had he given her enough time to consider the words they'd exchanged during their last encounter, or was he going to be subjecting himself to another verbal battle? Somehow the idea of a fight didn't deter him - not if it meant he'd get to be in close physical proximity to her again.

 _'Well.'_ He thought, soaring through the sky as he flew. ' _This is going to be interesting.'_

* * *


	7. First Encounters

* * *

Vegeta was well aware that Bulma was on her way home, so he waited for her outside. He sat in a tree, his arms crossed, patiently focusing his energy until the moment that his woman arrived. What struck him as odd was that she was traveling at a steady rate, but he could sense someone else's ki along with hers. It couldn't have been Mr. Briefs alongside her though, because both of her parents were currently inside their home. They'd been going in and out of the house, carrying items into one of their cars and fussing over trivial matters. He'd overheard them talking about making preparations for some trip, but the saiyan didn't care enough to really pay attention.

He hadn't exposed himself to much of human civilization aside from the Z-Fighters and Bulma's family, but he'd learned enough about Earth residents to know that they really cherished the ability to travel. Humans had even designated a word for such an event - " _vacation"._ The saiyan found it all so underwhelming. He'd spent his entire life roaming the universe and encountering foreign civilizations - there was absolutely _nothing_ exciting about the idea of driving for several hours! Furthermore, he didn't understand the point of going through the hassle of such a trip if one wasn't even going to leave the planet! _Human beings were so **easily** amused!_

All that Vegeta really cared for at that moment was to see Bulma, and to figure out who it was she was driving with. Even Trunks seemed to have a higher ki than this unknown individual, and _he_ was still an infant! Though, as Vegeta pondered, it was fair that Trunks would have such high power as an infant. ' _After all...'_ He thought with a smug chuckle, '... _The boy is **my** son_ _.'_

It didn't take too much longer before a vehicle pulled up in front of the Briefs' residence. Vegeta, who was still perched in the tree, studied it with intrigue. He didn't recognize it as one that he'd ever seen before - it was rather shoddy looking, and it sported an ugly color that might have been teal at some point, but had since then faded to nearly grey. Out of the driver's side popped a young male who looked rather _puny_ , his thick glasses hanging over his nose in a manner that made Vegeta think they were going to fall off. The male ran a hand through his blonde hair, which had already been slicked back, and he looked around. "Wow, what a great place!" He said. Vegeta's nose turned when he heard the male's words. As if his posture weren't enough, even this man's _voice_ dripped with insecurity.

It was then that the passenger door swung open, and as Vegeta watched, a very fatigued looking Bulma emerged. She'd fallen asleep for a brief period during the drive, and she was feeling even worse now that she was awake again. There was no doubt in her mind that she was definitely _sick_ , but the prospect of finally being home was at least a little bit comforting. Bulma, who was gulping back a subtle wave of nausea, couldn't help but feel that she was being watched. She looked around, her eyebrows wrinkling as she studied her surroundings. _Was her mind playing tricks on her?_

Vegeta, still tucked away in the branches of the tree, went unseen. He was still analyzing his woman as she moved. She did look incredibly pale, and she wasn't holding her head up as high as she typically did. Was it this unknown man who making her so frigid? Could it be that the man's weak aura was rubbing off on her? What was she doing being transported by _him_ , anyway? The idea of her and this man sitting so close together as they flew through the sky made the saiyan's stomach tighten. Vegeta was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the man speak, and the words were enough to send him into a jealous fury.

"Would you like me to walk you inside?"

What rubbish was this? Who _was_ this man?! _**Where**_ did he come off thinking he was close enough to _Vegeta's_ woman to be driving her around, speaking to her so casually, and to even be escorting her into her own home?! Without thinking, the saiyan let out a loud grunt.

Bulma looked up, her eyes fixing on the tree. ' _Damnit!'_ She thought. She just _knew_ she was being watched!Tadashi, who followed Bulma's gaze, looked up just in time to see a man shoot out from the tree. The man flew straight into the sky by what looked like 100 meters, and as Tadashi watched in horror, he came flying back down to land on his feet just a few meters away. Vegeta landed with his arms crossed. There was a dangerous scowl on his face, and his eyes were pinned on Tadashi. The intern let out a yowl and backed up, his eyes wide.

"A-Are you okay?!" The intern called, his voice shaking. He'd never seen anything like this! It was just _not_ physically possible for someone to survive a fall like that! Vegeta cleared his throat, his eyes not blinking as he looked Tadashi up and down. The intern glanced to Bulma, who seemed to be completely unmoved by this man. _'Wait!'_ Tadashi thought, confusion welling up inside. Why wasn't she freaking out? _Wa_ _s this **actually** normal for her?! _

Finally, after what felt like forever, Vegeta's stern expression fell. "So," He said, turning to Bulma and raising an eyebrow. "You send me away with every chance you get. I have tried to reason with you with no success, but you'll accept _this?_ You would rather be in the company of _this_ rather than me? _This?!_ " Vegeta was speaking in a perplexed tone. He turned to size Tadashi up once more. "This... this... this _beta male_!?"

Because she was sick, Bulma had to take in a deep breath to reply. "First of all, how _rude!_ " She panted. "Second, what business is it of yours?!"

Vegeta took note of how strained her voice came out. He didn't have a chance to respond, though, because it was then that Bulma's parents came running out of the house to greet their guests. The outraged saiyan looked up, irritated by his interruption, to see Mrs. Briefs. He backed away slightly and bit his lip.

"Oh, Bulma! My, you don't look so good!" Mrs. Briefs was calling.

"Well, if it isn't Tadashi? What brings you here, boy?" Mr. Briefs said when he reached the group, patting the intern on the shoulder. Tadashi stiffened. "Oh, I was just... driving Bulma home!"

" _Tadashi_?" Mrs. Briefs let out a squeal. "Oh, if it isn't you! I've heard _so_ much about you! How _are_ you doing, sweetie?! How's your uncle Haruto?!"

Vegeta watched as Mrs. Briefs gushed over the blonde intern. The saiyan couldn't help but feel a sting inside, and he looked to Bulma with his eyebrow still raised. _Her **parents** even knew about this beta male? How close **were** these two?! _ How long had she been receiving rides from this man? _Vegeta_ was the rightful mate of Bulma - he had spent the last 3 years with her, and together they'd even procreated! It just _wasn't right_ for Mrs. Briefs to make such a scene over any other man! Sure, the Saiyan would have been repulsed, but she should have been gushing over _him!_

Bulma was too tired at this point to really engage much into the conversation. Her shoulders were slouched, and she took in another deep breath as she fought yet another urge to throw up. Mrs. Briefs looked up from Tadashi, her smile dropping. "Bulma, you _really_ don't look so good!" She jumped to place a hand to her daughter's forehead. "My-you're burning up!" The Bluehead didn't respond - she simply gave her mother a look that said ' _I know.'_

"Come inside, dear, just come inside!" Mrs. Briefs took her daughter by the arm and began to quickly usher her into the house. Mr. Briefs, however, lingered outside. "Well, we were just on our way out the door, but my wife has always been good at throwing a meal together. Are you two hungry?"

Vegeta looked from Mr. Briefs, to the _beta male_ , and back to Mr. Briefs. Who _was_ this man, how did _his woman's_ family become so familiar with him, and _why_ did they seem to care so much?! The mere idea of them paying so much attention to someone else felt like a slap in the face. "Eat? At a table? With _him_!" Vegeta spat, crossing his arms. "Such a suggestion is an insult!"

"What?" Mr. Briefs asked, turning to Tadashi for an explanation. The blonde intern was shaken by Vegeta's blunt announcement, but he didn't do much to defend himself. ' _Well.'_ Vegeta thought, crossing his arms. _'If she was looking to replace me with someone who was the complete opposite of me, she did a good job! This spineless creature can't even stand up for his own honor!'_

"Hmm..." Mr. Briefs finally cleared his throat. "I guess I'll be checking up on Bulma now. Tadashi, see you soon. Vegeta... Have a good night." With that, the professor awkwardly turned and made his way into the house. When the door shut behind him, Vegeta turned back to Tadashi to speak once more. "Look, _boy._ What business do you have with _her_?"

Tadashi, who was still trying to wrap his head around Vegeta's stunt with the tree, blinked silently.

" _Answer me!"_ Vegeta was livid. How _dare_ this man - this _beta_ swoop in on _his_ kin?! It was disrespectful. It was just _wrong_. The Saiyan had noticed that he hadn't just blasted the puny creature away with one swift move. In a past life he would have done so without missing a beat. He would have done it, and he wouldn't have had a second thought about it. That was what lessor beings deserved for interfering with a prince's business! But Vegeta's instincts had changed since he'd started staying on Earth, and he felt compelled to handle the matter without exterminating the man.

Tadashi was in shock. Nobody had even introduced Vegeta to him - he knew nothing about the guy! All he knew was that he was being yelled at by a very buff, very angry looking man, who could withstand falls that would normally crush a human. It wouldn't be wise to anger him - but then again, for some reason Bulma wasn't afraid of him! Perhaps he was more harmless than he seemed. But _who could he have been to Bulma?_ Why was he _so_ defensive over her? Was he an _ex?_ The intern, who was taller than Vegeta and had to look slightly down at him, decided to stand more firm.

Vegeta grabbed at Tadashi's shirt and leaned closer, growling through his teeth. "I want to know what _business_ you have with her."

Tadashi gulped, waiting for Vegeta to let go. "Why do _you_ need to know?" He asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Vegeta almost laughed. This frail man was bad at bluffing. "Listen, I don't know _what_ she sees in you. But I'm no fool. Don't think for a minute that you stand any chance against me."

With that the saiyan let go of Tadashi's and swiftly turned for the house. The intern backed away towards his car, his eyes glaring at the saiyan from under his glasses. Clearly Bulma and her ex still had some unsettled business...

* * *

Vegeta stood in the entry room of the house and listened, his arms crossed over his chest, as Mr. and Mrs. Briefs went back and forth about Bulma. It sounded as if they were in a heated discussion with the woman, arguing over whether or not they should proceed with their _trip_ because of her ailment. Predictably, Bulma was insisting that she would be fine. It was just like her to put on a strong front. Of course, Vgeta knew there was a soft side to her. He'd _seen_ it many times before. It took quite awhile, but eventually she won in her debate. It was only a few moments later that Mr. and Mrs. Briefs, who was toting Trunks under her arm, went out the door and filed into their vehicle. They didn't even give the saiyan a glance as they went, noticeably in a hurry after the time they'd wasted on their discussion.

The house fell silent as soon as the door slammed behind them. Vegeta, who was still standing in the home's entryway, began to wonder if his woman had forgotten about him. She didn't go looking for him, and instead he listened as she pulled herself upstairs. Her feet sounded heavy, her movements slow and forced. The sun was starting to set outside, and with that the house was growing darker. The saiyan pulled himself out from the corner he'd been lurking in, marching into the living room and having a look around. There was usually such a commotion going on within the Briefs household that it felt strange for it to be so quiet. Vegeta was still upset about the scene that had just taken place outside, but he couldn't help but think of how nice it was going to be to finally get some alone time with his woman. Upstairs he could hear water running, and it must have been coming from the bathroom. Vegeta had calmed down slightly after his interaction with the _beta male_ , but he still wanted answers. And he wanted them _now._ He was going to have to have a talk with her! So, without much thought, he followed the sound upstairs and down the hall.

Bulma was in the bathroom, rinsing off her toothbrush as she let out an exhale. She'd just succumbed to her nausea, and her stomach was still churning as it settled down from its violent heaving. She could feel sweat on the back of her neck, and she let out a pained moan as she lamented her circumstance. It was when she shut the tap off that she could hear footsteps making their way down the hall. She didn't pay much attention to them, thinking that her mother had probably forgotten something and was running inside to fetch it at the last minute. It was then that Bulma opened the door and stepped out. She turned to see a familiar man making his way towards her, and she shot him a glare.

"To what do I owe such a face?" Vegeta scoffed as he continued his strut. He'd been trying to get back to her good side for _weeks_ , but he still wasn't afraid of having an argument at that moment. Whatever business she had with that blonde man, it was his _right_ to know! He was readying himself to demand the information from her when Bulma spoke.

"You _bastard_!" She crowed, taking the saiyan by surprise and causing him to stop in his tracks. _He_ was the one who was supposed to be bitter in that moment - what did she have to be angry about?! She'd been giving him the cold shoulder lately, but this seemed to be completely out of left field. _Great._ His eyes widened, wondering what on Earth he'd done _now._ Bulma took a deep breath before choking out once more."I _told_ you it was cold the other night! Vegeta - you bastard! Thanks to you, I'm pretty sure I've caught the flu!"

* * *


	8. All Alone

* * *

Bulma stood at the door of the bathroom, feeling both lethargic and irritable. Chills were running down her spine as her body tried to determine how to handle the viral attack it was under.

"Really?" He asked, cocking his head to the side as he eyed his woman up and down. The Bluehead was holding onto the doorframe for support as she caught her breath from the yelling she'd just done. She seemed to be in a fit of both shivers and sweats at the same time, and her chin quivered with the recoil of her words. The saiyan _had_ suspected that she didn't exactly look fit when he'd seen her step out of that _man_ ' _s_ vehicle, so he didn't see any reason to not believe her statement. "You're sick? _Just_ from that flight?"

Bulma glowered at Vegeta. She was feeling worse than she had in a long time, and that was _all_ he was going to say? She let out a groan, feeling uneasy as her stomach began to lurch. A moment later she slammed the door, running for the toilet. Vegeta stood in the hall, listening as Bulma coughed and groaned from within as she succumbed to her nausea once more.

 _'Well.'_ He thought. Aside from a couple of health issues Bulma had encountered when she had that disease known as _pregnancy_ , Vegeta had never seen her sick before. Illness was not unknown to a saiyan, but it certainly took more than the chill of wind to do it. And even then, Vegeta had worked up quite an immune system from his time as a pillager working under Frieza. He listened to the sounds of Bulma rinsing her mouth out again, and finally she re-emerged at the door. The saiyan stepped out of her way, giving her clearance to leave the room.

She stalked out, making a bee-line for her bedroom. When she saw that her window had _finally_ been fixed during the day she let out a sigh of relief, and instantly dragged herself into bed. "Ahh," She moaned, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She felt like she'd run a marathon - she'd been waiting for this moment for _too_ long... Vegeta stood in her doorway and watched as she sank deep into her pillow. "Woman, who was that man you were with?" He asked. Bulma didn't even open her eyes, nuzzling into her blanket. " _Who?_ " She replied, her mind losing itself to sleep.

Vegeta crossed his arms and watched the woman quickly fell asleep in front of him. ' _I guess I'll have to wait until her energy has restored before I can ask her about that **man**.;_ He with that, the saiyan walked off to find something to do in the empty house.

How oddly peaceful this place felt when it was empty. It was interesting to be sitting in the living room, on the same couch that Mrs. Briefs had pressured Vegeta into holding her fabric while she sewed, and to know that the blonde woman was nowhere near. There were so many noises of life that the saiyan had become accustomed to in this home, and now it was all missing. Bulma, who was in a deep state of sleep upstairs, only seemed to add to the silence.

 _'Hmm...'_ Vegeta thought, wondering how long it would be until she stirred. He sat in the silence, with his eyes closed and his ears open, and he waited.

* * *

Except for a couple of times when Bulma got up to be sick again in the bathroom, she remained in bed. The day came to an end, with Vegeta finding refuge in the room he'd stayed in before. He'd stopped by his woman's room on his way to his own, peeping in to see that she was laying incredible still. He considered stepping in to make sure that the ailed beauty was still breathing, but as if on cue she let out a groan and rolled over. Not wanting to disturb her, the saiyan proceeded to his own bed.

It bothered him that he hadn't been able to confront her about the beta male, but Vegeta found that his anger lessened as the hours went by. While he had initially been in a fit of rage, the silence of the house had done to dull his fury into a more civilized state of displeasure. It was easy for him to rest that night, knowing that he'd have his talk with Bulma before her parents returned.

The next morning when Vegeta rose from his sleep he was nearly surprised to hear noises coming from downstairs. The sun had hardly risen into the sky, and yet it seemed that the house was already awake. He'd grown so accustomed to waking up earlier than anyone else when he'd stayed at the Briefs residence before, so this was certainly different. When he'd gone to bed the night before the house had been completely empty, aside from Bulma. She'd been in a state that seemed nearly death-like, so who was it causing the commotion on the first floor? With a grunt the saiyan made his way downstairs, readying himself for the social interaction that would be required when he discovered who it was. He couldn't help but to hope that it wasn't Mr. or Mrs. Briefs - the saiyan really had started to enjoy the privacy he'd grown accustomed to the day before, and he wasn't ready for it to end.

"You're awake?"

Bulma was laying on the couch, snuggled into a thick comforter, her face glued to the television in front of her. She muttered in response, not caring to speak a coherent word.

The saiyan crossed his arms. He didn't enjoy seeing her in this state - where was the defiant and resilient woman he knew so well? She looked as if she'd given up on everything, and the sight was not one he cared for. "Are you going to speak?" He challenged, hoping to motivate the fight back into her.

Bulma let out a groan. "I'm too tired." The truth was that hadn't eaten dinner the night before because she was busy sleeping off her nausea. While she had been prepared to cook for herself when her parents were away, her sickness had drained her of any will. Skipping her meals the day before hadn't helped with how bad she felt, either. She was completely drained of energy, and even laying on the couch was exhausting. Just making her way down the stairs had been enough to render her dizzy and to deplete her of breath! The thought of standing at a stove for half an hour was one that she was going to need to prepare for!

"I see. Then you don't mind if I go out." It was obvious to Vegeta that it was going to be another uneventful day, with Bulma too apathetic to have a productive conversation with. Bulma hardly even let out a grunt in response, leaving the stirred saiyan to his own devices as he walked away in thought.

Bulma stared at the TV, hugging a pillow as she continued to fight back the sensation of impending nausea. She had always been strong willed, but in a previous life she'd still never hesitated to beg for help when she needed it. Yet, ever since Bulma had met Vegeta, her way of thinking had slightly altered. His pride came off as both admirable and foolish, and yet a part of it had slowly rubbed off on her. It was especially evident after their breakup. Something inside made her want to prove herself to Vegeta - that she was strong and didn't _need_ him or his _muscles_ to take care of her. She didn't want to showcase how bad she felt to someone who always made such an effort to tough it out through his own pain. When they'd been a couple it had been different - she'd been in an emotional state that he'd seen a lot of. But now? Now she was much happier, and he didn't _deserve_ to see her in a vulnerable state. She told herself that she was too _good_ for it.

Bulma let out another groan. She was half awake, dazed from too much TV, and she realized that she hadn't heard a single noise come from within the house for quite some time. "Vegeta?" She muttered, her eyelids growing heavy. There was no response, and the Bluehead allowed her lids to clamp shut. It was _j_ _ust_ as she'd expected! Vegeta couldn't care less about her condition. He'd hardly even checked on her before he'd left her completely alone. He wasn't even in the house anymore! Only thinking of himself, he'd probably gone off to train... As he _always_ did...

It was annoying, but Bulma was so drowsy at that point that she could hardly care.

 _How strange it felt._ The Bluehead couldn't help but to be oddly nostalgic during a moment like this. This was the _first_ time she'd ever been sick and completely alone, with nobody to assist her. She would have to completely take care of herself. She didn't have her mom, an aunt, not even a friend.

_Nobody..._

* * *

_"How long are you going to lay there like that?"_

Bulma hadn't even opened her eyes yet, and her brows were already furrowed. "Leave me alone," She mumbled. There was a layer of sweat built up on her forehead, and her tongue felt so dry that it was hard to form words. She instantly began to lament her situation - feeling both desperately thirsty, yet too tired to want to get herself something to drink.

"Come on, _Woman_. What kind of bug is going to make you _this_ pitiful?"

Those were fighting words to Bulma, and it was enough to make her open her eyes and sit up. "Who are you to-" She began to retort, but her eyes widened when she realized her surroundings. She was clutching her own blanket, laying in her own bed. She was about to ask what had happened when Vegeta beat her to it.

"You looked so _pathetically_ uncomfortable in your state downstairs, so I moved you up here."

The ailed beauty, her unkempt hair frizzing out around her, dropped her face to hide her reaction. _Why were her cheeks stinging with the threat of a blush?_ An image of Vegeta cradling her in his arms as he carried her bridal style to her room was one she hadn't expected. Something about her having absolutely no memory of such an occurrence was embarrassing, as well. Bulma didn't have too much time to succumb to her emotions, though. Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to get a good look.

"Is that _soup_?!" She gasped, her eyebrows raising so high that it nearly hurt.

"We both needed food, didn't we?" The Saiyan grunted.

The bowl was sitting on her bedside table, coupled with a spoon to complete the set. Bulma let out a happy moan as she grabbed the dish, pulling it into her lap. She didn't care if she made a mess while she ate in bed - she was _hungry_ , and she was _going_ to eat!

"But, how did you...?" She asked with a smile, stirring the dish in anticipation.

" _How_ did I?" Vegeta let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Woman, did you assume I'm not capable of preparing meals? How else would I have eaten during the trips I took when I worked under Frieza? Was I to just starve during our missions?"

Bulma didn't respond before popping the spoon into her mouth. The broth was nearly tasteless, and she swallowed it with a gulp. Vegeta let out another chuckle at that. "My, what a face." He teased.

"There's no seasoning." She commented. It wasn't that she was complaining - she was so hungry that she could hardly care. Rather, she was just trying to explain her reaction. Vegeta rolled his eyes. "You Earth inhabitants and your silly expectations." He turned, making his way across the room while Bulma ate. "Herbs and salts may make a meal more pleasurable, but are they anything more than that - a pleasantry? I caught the fish and boiled it into a stew. Should it matter how well it tastes if it's helping you to survive?" The saiyan ran a finger across the glass of Bulma's window, inspecting how it had been fixed since he'd destroyed it.

"Right, right..." It was now Bulma's turn to roll her eyes. She didn't speak again until her bowl was empty, and when she finally looked back up she saw Vegeta still standing by the window, his back straight as he peered outside.

"Vegeta?" She said softly, interrupting the saiyan from his concentration. He turned, glancing to her from over his shoulder. "Why did you break my window the other night?"

The saiyan raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't intentional. I was just trying to get your attention and the damned thing blew out."

_Figured._

Bulma placed her empty bowl on the bedside table, her heart beating with a new glow after her meal. The energy had started in her throat as she swallowed down the warm broth, and from there it traveled through each and every crevice of her body, filling her with a reborn motivation to be mobile once again. Her mood was rising, and she smiled as she kicked the blanket off from her legs.

"Woman." Vegeta turned back to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. His spoke in a serious tone, his posture straight. "Now that you seem to be in a dignified state once again, I have a question for _you_."

It was never a good sign when somebody announced that they were planning an interrogation. What on Earth could he have to ask her about? Bulma hadn't done anything wrong, so she wasn't worried. Perhaps this is why it took her completely by surprise when Vegeta finally said "explain what business you have with that beta male."

 _Beta male?_ Bulma was caught completely off guard, and it took her several seconds before the words registered in her brain. Suddenly she realized - _beta male_ was the term Vegeta had used to described Tadashi! "What do you _mean_ 'business'?" She replied, her defenses building.

Vegeta, who had managed to subdue his irritation up until that point, was fighting to keep himself from cracking as images from the day before went back to his head. "Don't play coy with me, Woman. Were you _not_ receiving a ride from that man!? Who is he, and how are your parents on such good terms with him?"

"That _man_ was giving me a ride because I'm sick!" Bulma snapped, though she wasn't entirely mad. It was annoying to have to explain herself, but it was also amusing to think that Vegeta was _actually_ jealous of Tadashi. "And my _Dad_ knows him because he works at our company! He's related to an old friend! My mom hadn't even met the guy until yesterday!"

Her words made sense in the saiyan's ears, but they didn't do to entirely comfort him. "If you were feeling that ill, someone else could have escorted you."

"Really? Someone else? And _who_ would that have been?" Bulma crossed her arms to signify her challenge.

" _Someone_ who doesn't have ulterior motives!" Vegeta snapped, his hand balling into a fist.

 _Ulterior motives?_ This was too much for her to take. She let out a laugh and stood from the bed, running a hand through her oily hair. The conversation was ridiculous, and she needed a shower. "Vegeta, get over it!" She began to make her way to the hall. "The kid's like half my age, there _are_ no ulterior motives! Come _on_!"

..

It was evident enough to the saiyan that Bulma had no interest in the boy romantically. He'd been in enough disbelief that she'd be interested in someone of that male's frail state, and it really didn't take much convincing to drive that reality home. It was good to have it confirmed that his woman wasn't fawning over the beta male, but that did nothing to soothe his apprehension to the boy. There was no doubt in Vegeta's mind that this blonde man was interested in Bulma, and that was something he really wasn't okay with...

When Bulma emerged from her shower she smelled of lavender and honey, a towel wrapped tightly over her head while she stepped through the house in a thin bathrobe. Vegeta, who had been sitting alone in his room, watched as Bulma strolled past his door. She seemed to be in much better spirits, but still looked quite weak. He listened as she made her way downstairs, seemed to fiddle with something, and returned carrying a basket of laundry in her arms.

She stopped at his door frame, balancing the basket on her hip. "Oh, Vegeta?" She called cheerfully, and the saiyan looked up with a curious scowl. His eyes ran over her figure, which wasn't hidden under the robe's thin material at all. She was looking good - _real_ good. And he wasn't sure if he'd ever been completely alone with her in the house before... It was an experience that he could get used to...

"The ship is all yours if you were wanting to train." She gave him an assuring smile, before letting out a cough due to her condition.

The saiyan raised a cocky eyebrow, a smirk forming at his lips. "Does this mean I finally have your permission to stay in these quarters?" He asked, his tone slightly condescending as he locked eyes with hers.

"Don't push it!" She warned, placing her free hand on her hip and throwing her head back in an dictatorial pose. It was only a second later that she found herself gritting her teeth, though. ' _Great!'_ She thought. She would have looked _real_ authoritative in that moment, if it hadn't been for her towel that went flying to the ground as a result. " _Damnit!_ " She quickly bent down to snatch her towel up from the carpet in a swift motion, as if Vegeta hadn't just been a witness. He let out a laugh and stood, making his way for the door. As he passed his woman he gave her a light pat on the head, as if he were silently saying ' _there there, at least you tried.'_

Bulma watched as he descended down the stairs. ' _He hasn't won!'_ She thought, throwing the towel into her laundry basket with a hiss. ' _I_ _CHOSE to let him stay! He didn't win!'_

Vegeta was still smirking when he clicked on the gravity machine in the familiar ship. He really did enjoy interacting with _her_ when they were alone...

* * *

 


	9. Too Little, Too Late

* * *

Once again fighting her emotions and feeling utterly confused, Bulma was back downstairs and flipping through the T.V. channels as her mind wandered. It was about 10 P.M., Vegeta was still locked away in the ship, and she had run out of things to keep her busy. The Bluehead couldn't help but to replay everything that had happened between her and Vegeta since Cell's defeat- from him taking her out for a night flight and saying things she'd never expected to leave his mouth, to him showing obvious jealously towards Tadashi, and him even making her soup while she was sick.

 _Of course_ , she wouldn't even be sick if it hadn't been for him whisking her away and ignoring her protests when she complained that she was cold! But then, Bulma thought, ' _H_ _e **did** give me his shirt when he realized I wasn't joking...' _ Caught in an anxious turmoil, she wanted to trust that his behavior was genuine. Yet she wasn't used to it. He seemed so oddly different - she could feel it. Ever since he had returned from a trip he took into space while she'd been pregnant, he seemed to be undergoing some type in internal shift. It was obvious that there had been some type of metamorphosis going on from within, and at times this had resulted in him being kinder than ever - at others he'd been colder than a winter storm. As much as some of his recent behaviors had flattered her, she was stuck focusing on a lot of the things that had gone wrong. There was a part of her that wanted to believe in him, to trust that he really had adjusted his priorities, but she was just so fearful of being hurt once again...

It was then that she heard the back door jerking, and she looked up. Vegeta was strolling into the house, his chest bare, as he used a cloth to dab sweat from his forehead. Bulma let out a gasp and quickly turned away. "Do you _mind_?" She hissed, hugging her knees and sporting a dangerous pout. She was staring at the coffee table in front of her, willing herself not to glance up. The last thing she wanted was to get a good look at the man a few meters away in his current state. She didn't need to see him like that - not with the conflict going on in her mind. _Was he doing it on purpose?_ With Vegeta, it was hard to tell. Bulma was instantly reminded of a time when she'd been waiting to have a chat with Vegeta in his room, and he'd walked in completely naked! She'd been incredibly embarrassed back then, only to find out that he'd known she was there and simply didn't care when he'd dropped his towel.

 _'Great!'_ Bulma thought. She'd only been trying to avoid getting a look at his _chest_ , and _now_ she was having memories of his naked rear gyrating as he pulled boxers over it! _This really was his fault!_ Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, he was driving her _crazy._ The flustered Bluehead finally looked up to see that he was now standing in the doorway to the kitchen, taking his time as he chugged a glass of water. She simply couldn't take it anymore. " _Vegeta!_ " She choked, her throat raw from having coughed so many times throughout the day. "Do you _mind_?!"

"What is it _now_?" The saiyan was speaking in a tone that was too calm for her taste. It was as if he'd been expecting her reaction, and in that moment she knew it was true. He was flaunting himself at her, and he was doing it on _purpose._ Here she had been, struggling to decide if she was going give him another chance, and he'd walked in with the intent purpose of _teasing_ her!

"I'm tired, I'm sick, and you're fucking with me!" She shot, throwing the T.V. remote down on the couch cushion beside her.

The saiyan cocked an eyebrow. "How is getting a drink of water _fucking_ with you?" He'd appreciated seeing her in such thin material when she'd wore her robe earlier, but he was certainly enjoying his pay back.

This was it - he was trying to get her blurt something out about his appearance, and she didn't want to take that bait. Bulma could see there was amusement in his eyes, and it pissed her off. She didn't want to admit that he was getting to her head. She didn't _want_ him to still have that type of power over her! She was going to act more dignified than that! It was then that Bulma stood up, threw her hands in the direction of the ship, and shouted "YOU COULD GET WATER IN THE SHIP, CAN'T YOU?! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE IN HERE?!". She immediately broke into a coughing fit as her throat retaliated against her yells. _Great,_ she'd lost control of her emotions. _So much for acting dignified and not losing her temper..._

Vegeta's eyes widened. "Jeez, **woman**!" He placed his glass on the kitchen counter and then made his way for her. "Calm down!"

"You walked in like _that_ on purpose!" Bulma choked. "So don't tell me to _calm down!_ " Earlier she'd been determined not to lose her cool in front of Vegeta, but she had lost all care for that. He just had a _way_ of bringing this side out of her!

"And what do you care about how I look?" He smirked, stepping even closer to her as she sat back and watched.

"I..." She breathed, looking up from her seat as he began to tower over her with each step. Her eyes glanced over the taut muscles of his chest, and she could feel her cheeks starting to redden as her heart began to race.

Vegeta saw the look on her face, and a shrewd glint flashed across his eyes. "For someone who doesn't care, you sure seem invested." Bulma's mouth dropped open, and she turned away with a huff. The saiyan smirked and stepped even closer, bending down so he could be eye-level with her. "Woman. Why are you being so _stubborn_?" He leaned in, clasping her by the chin and turning her head to face him.

Bulma's heart was pounding. She could feel a jolt of electricity running through her skin from his touch, but she was still cross. "Do you really want to know?" She breathed, not bothering to pull away from his grasp as her eyebrows narrowed.

"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked."

 _Cocky jerk,_ Bulma pulled away and scooted to the other end of the couch. He'd been too close just then - dangerously close, and she was desperate to create some distance between the two. "If you care so much about Trunks and I, then why didn't you bother protecting us when my plane exploded?" She crossed her arms and waited, shooting him a look that said 'T _here, explain THAT!'_

It was now Vegeta's turn to react. He stood, walked to the other couch in the room, and took a seat directly across from Bulma. "We spoke before the battle with the Androids, and I told you not to come."

"And I told you that I wanted everyone to meet Trunks!" She retorted, not one to take orders from anybody. "And we'd broken up by the time the Androids appeared - why should I have listened to what you told me to do?!"

"I told you it'd be in your best interest not to show up. But you did anyway, didn't you?" The Saiyan ignored her response as he continued on with his point. " _You_ made your own decision to put yourself and the boy in danger. I wasn't the one who did that. _Didn't_ I say that I had done my part in warning you. I did tell you that I would not consolidate the battle in order to save you from your own reckless behavior, did I not?"

The Bluehead pouted at this. What he said was true - she _had_ been warned. But still, it didn't sit right with her that he could so easily turn the other cheek when reality set in and she had _really_ been in danger. What if Future Trunks hadn't saved her? Vegeta would have so easily allowed her and Trunks to just _die,_ simply because he'd warned her? His logic just wasn't working to soothe her woes...

Perhaps Vegeta could see this on her face, because his tone softened. "You had all of your friends around to save you." He slowly began lean forward out of his seat, gripping the cushion below him as he did so. "Know that I had no doubts about your safety." His voice came out so uncharacteristically genuine that it made her breath catch in her chest - which resulted in a minor coughing fit as the rough of her throat retaliated against this action. Vegeta raised his eyebrows, unsure if she were actually coughing, or if she were stifling a laugh. "I'm being serious!" His voice rising as he grew frustrated. He felt as if he'd tried nearly everything. He'd attempted to speak with her several times, in different ways, and he always ended up with the same result. She was _always_ finding a way to deflect him.

"I'm being serious, too!" Bulma replied. She let out one last cough and straightened her posture. "Look, Vegeta. We can't just go back to how things used to be - not just like _that_!" She stood then, wishing to remove herself from the situation. "It's just not that simple..."

The saiyan followed her lead and rose to his feet as well. His frustrations were continuing to build as he watched her start to walk away yet again. This was how all of his attempts with her seemed to end, and he wasn't ready for it to happen once more. "What else do you want, Woman!?" He snapped. "I've tried having conversations with you. What more do you ask of me?!"

Bulma's shoulders rose as he yelled, and she turned in surprise. This was the most upset she'd seen him behave towards her since their breakup. _This_ felt like the Vegeta she'd come to expect and know so well. She fell into a familiar defense, not one to take being yelled at lightly. "What do you mean?! I've already told you that I can't trust your words at face value!" She lifted a finger and pointed it at him. " _You're_ the one who treated me like crap for so long! _You're_ the one who would make promises and then break them! How _dare_ you expect me to just keep taking that from you!"

"I never said that I expected you to put up with that, Woman!" Vegeta barked. If anything, he found that he respected her even more for not taking his behavior so submissively. _Couldn't she tell?!_ "I have attempted to make things better between us!"

" _Too bad!_ " Bulma yelled back, her throat scratching with her voice. "I can't just trust what you say to me so easily! I spent too long doing that, and look where it go me! Y _ou_ were the one who broke that trust for me! You can say whatever you want, but this is all just too little, and way too late!"

 _What was he supposed to do_? Vegeta's eyes widened, his hands balling into fists. Ît felt as if she'd told him that he didn't have any chance at all to _ever_ make amends, and he watched as Bulma turned away once more. When she got to the foot of the stairs she placed her hand on its rail, glancing over her shoulder. She could see the look on his face, and it made her own stomach drop. She'd never seen him with an expression such as the one he wore then, and it nearly brought her to tears. She began to regret how harsh she'd been with her words. "I'm... I'm sorry..." She muttered, her voice nearly shaking. "I'm sorry, but that's just the truth..." Her voice now nearly a whisper. "You can still stay here if you have nowhere else to go. Your old room is just as you left it. I'll let you live under this roof - but _that's_ it."

And with that, as the saiyan watched, his woman made her way upstairs.

* * *


	10. Trunks' Role Model

* * *

Bulma and Vegeta hadn't ended their argument in the best of ways, but things had been relatively calm between the two during the remainder of their time alone. The saiyan had taken Bulma up on her offer and he stayed at the Briefs residence, going out during the day and returning at night to sleep in his own room. There were times when he would fly out into the wilderness to meditate in the trees, and there were times that he would simply stay at the house to work out in the ship. During his training sessions he took himself seriously, not one to hold himself back or quit before it was time. Although he was focused and dedicated to his routine, the saiyan didn't spend nearly as long as he used to in training. Kakarot was gone, and along with that absence was the goal that Vegeta had lived by for more than three years.. Vegeta no longer woke up each morning with the vow to surpass his rival's strength. There was no use for it, and even if Kakarot was still alive the saiyan prince wasn't sure if there'd be a point.

He'd seen it during the fight with Cell, and he'd faced it - his own inferiority.

It took a lot for a saiyan, especially one of royal lineage, to admit when he was outranked. But it also took a great amount of intelligence to recognize such defeat. It was something that he'd had no choice but to do, and it left him with a great deal of uneasy enlightenment. It was a hard to reality to face, but it also left him with a newfound sense of peace that he'd struggled with finding for years. He wasn't constantly trying to get his fingers around something that was unattainable anymore - he'd accepted his own place, and instead of putting so much energy towards something that was futile, he was simply working for himself. With Frieza, the Androids, and Cell all dead, there really was no threat to the peace or safety that came with residing on Earth. There was not a single person that Vegeta needed to prove himself to anymore, and so he trained for the sake of maintaining all of the progress he'd already made with his strength. With each day he could feel himself getting stronger, and it secretly pleased him. But at the end of the day he had nobody to prove himself to anymore. He'd seen Kakarot and Gohan. He'd seen the power that Cell had carried, and he'd had to come to terms with the fact that he'd never quite reach that level. Vegeta knew he was strong - very _strong,_ but he recognized that he wasn't the only being capable of emitting great strength. He could respect that in his own right. He'd be a fool not to.

As far as things were concerned with Bulma, after the exchange they'd shared that one night Vegeta had retreated a bit in his verbal advances on the woman. Sure, her words were a blow to his ego. At the time he felt as if he were going to completely lose his mind, but after a night of sleep he woke up with a new determination. She might have been harsh with her words, but he knew that she was softening up around the edges. He was even back to sleeping under the same roof as her, and _she'd_ been the one to offer that to him! Slowly but surely, he was making progress. He was just going to need more time...

She'd claimed that she couldn't believe his words, and that her distrust stemmed from years of his fickle behavior and unkept promises. The one thing she _hadn't_ told him, but that he deducted from what she'd said, was that he needed to change his approach. Their last conversation was the most productive one they'd manage to have, because he'd finally been able to lay his side of things down and she'd actually listened. Now that their differences had been communicated, Vegeta felt as if he could move on from constantly trying to get a word with her. The Saiyan wasn't going to attempt any more futile discussions with his woman, no. But he was never going to back down. She now knew his side of things, and if she wanted to have a reason to believe what he said then he was just going to have to give her one. If that meant that he'd have to make this clear with his actions, then that was just something he was just going to have to do. And this was annoying to his pride - the prince of saiyans wasn't exactly enthusiastic about having to work so hard in order to obtain approval from another. In his younger years, anyone who disapproved of him would typically be destroyed as punishment, but things were different now. Bulma wasn't deserving of such a brutal treatment - although she definitely was a thorn in his rear. It was both amusing and emasculating, but it was a challenge that he was going to accept.

Several days had come to pass, and it was one morning when Vegeta was out in the ship when he began to feel the ki of Mr. and Mrs. Briefs. ' _Oh, great!'_ He thought. _'They're back...'_

With a grunt the saiyan shut off the gravity machine and threw his shirt on. There was a sense of grief to know that things were going to be less quiet around the house. He'd really enjoyed how things were when it was just him and Bulma alone together - even if they weren't on the best of terms. They'd been able to coexist with relative peace, and he'd found quite a liking for it. She'd spent her time flipping through magazines or clicking away at her computer, while he spent his own working out, meditating, or interacting with nature. And despite the cold front that she put on, whenever he walked into the house from his time alone there seemed to be a warm meal waiting for him. Each night when he retreated to his room the bed was prepared, and each morning when they'd pass each other in the hall she'd wish him to have a good day. He'd found this new routine to be refreshing, and so it was with a heavy heart that he walked into the house and faced the shrill squeal of Mrs. Briefs as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, _VEGETA!_ It's so nice to see you're here!" The blonde grandmother planted a wet kiss on his cheek, and the saiyan let out a growl of protest. Mrs. Briefs stepped back and beamed, looking from Bulma, to the saiyan, and back to Bulma again. "I hope you two were able to get along while we were gone! Oh, we just had the best time!"

Wiping at his cheek, Vegeta was taking in a deep breath to prevent becoming overwhelmed from all of the commotion. In the background Mr. Briefs was pulling some of his luggage across the room, which resulted in a loud dragging noise as the wheels of his suitcase screeched. Mrs. Briefs was still gushing to Bulma and Vegeta about the things she did during her trip, Trunks was wailing as he hugged Bulma, and even Mr. Briefs' pet birds were squawking from the other room. Each and every sound intermingled into one deafening wave of chaos, and Vegeta could feel his left eye starting to twitch.

"Mom, mom. _Mom!"_ Bulma was saying, interrupting her mother's enthusiastic story. She was struggling with Trunks as he yowled at her. "Mom! This all sounds great, but I think I need to feed the baby!"

"Oh, right! We haven't eaten all morning! I'll cook us up somethin' good! Vegeta dear, you'll stay and have lunch with us, won't ya?!"

There was so much going on at once that the saiyan had lost track of what was even happening. He gulped and nodded, wishing to reunite with silence as soon as possible. Mrs. Briefs let out one last squeal and ran for the kitchen, singing about how lovely the sky was outside.

The saiyan turned to plant his eyes on Trunks, who had ceased in his crying as soon as Mrs. Briefs left the room. The baby had a desperate scowl on his face, and Vegeta felt instant empathy. The boy wasn't hungry - he was only going mad! It was something the Saiyan could relate to on a personal level, as he could feel his own head starting to spin with frustration. "Let me take the child." He finally said, and it took Bulma by surprise.

"What?" She asked, hugging her baby protectively. She wasn't used to Vegeta showing such interest in Trunks - especially not when he was acting so stern. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Don't argue, Woman! The boy is my son, and he's coming with me."

Trunks appeared to be in shock when the Bluehead reluctantly handed him over to his father. It seemed both uncomfortable and unnatural as Vegeta held on to his son. He wasn't quite sure of what to do, using both hands to hold the child away from his body and avoiding eye contact with the boy. After a few seconds he turned, gesturing his head to the back of the room. "Open the door for me, Woman."

"Can't you do that yourself?!"

"My hands are full!"

Bulma sighed. "Just balance him on your hip! It'll free up one of your hands! Kami, Vegeta, you look like you're afraid he's going to hurt you or something!"

The saiyan glared, but he obliged to the best that he could. It felt strange to hold his own son so close to him, but he'd seen the woman and everyone else handle Trunks in this manner. So perhaps it didn't appear as out-of-place as it felt. The Woman was right - as silly as it felt, carrying his son in this way enabled him to open the door by himself, and Vegeta carried Trunks all the way to his ship. Once they were inside he set the boy down on the cold tile floor and stood over him. Trunks looked up curiously, unsure of what the expect out of the situation.

"Listen, boy. If you wish to get peace away from the chaos that takes place inside, you'll have to find it in here." Vegeta said, his hands on his hips as he looked down at the baby. Trunks didn't respond in the slightest, his mouth dropped open as he stared up at his father with awe. ' _Wow_ ,' Little Trunks thought. ' _A way out!'_ What had done to deserve such a gift!?

"These are the quarters in which I train my body." Vegeta explained, gesturing at the ship behind him. "If you're going to spend time in here, I expect you to work on yourself as well."

It was then that Trunks snapped his gaze from Vegeta, looking around to observe the area in which Vegeta had referenced.

"Now, I expect you to get up and start moving. You're going to have to learn how to walk in order to do that! And don't disturb me while I work out." The Saiyan concluded, turning on his heel and making his way to the other side of the room. He made a show out of pulling off his shirt and began to do push ups, being sure to count loudly as if to exemplify what he wanted Trunks to do. The baby stared at his Dad and then continued to observe the room around him, noting that there wasn't anything for him to grab onto and practice standing against. He didn't feel that there was much else he _could_ do, and this new opportunity to watch his father from such close proximity was too much to pass. So little Trunks began to crawl towards Vegeta, who was still doing pushups in his own zone.

When the worried and curious Bulma walked into the ship only a few minutes later, she was surprised to see the two males inside. Trunks was sitting beside his Dad, watching intently as his father continued in his exercise routine. "Trunks?" She called, and the baby looked up dumbly. Vegeta, who had been on his last set of pushups, paused and turned as well.

"What is it, Woman?!" He grunted, sweat forming at his forehead. "We're working in here!"

Bulma raised an eyebrow and fought back a smirk. " _We_? You're the only one I see doing anything..." She made her way across the room and scooped Trunks into her arms. "Aren't you two wanting to eat?"

Trunks, still in awe at being so close to his father, sported a grin.

* * *

As the weeks passed and life became more regular, Bulma grew rather used to Vegeta hanging around the household in his usual reserved manner. Vegeta didn't exactly whisk Trunks away into the ship _every_ time he trained - but it was something he did when he recognized the look of desperation upon his son's face when things were becoming too hectic within the household. It seemed that all Trunks did during these times was sit next to his father and watch as he threw punches in midair, practiced his power ups, or counted his situps out loud. Vegeta never acknowledged his son in the slightest during these times, although he did note how observant the boy was.

Bulma, who didn't want Trunks to become as obsessive and closed-off as Vegeta had a history of behaving, was conflicted with it all. She was flattered by the idea that Vegeta was acting in such a way as to include Trunks, but she was worried about what really went on inside. One day she took it upon herself to ask her ex-lover about it when he returned into the house from a few hours in the ship with their son.

"What goes on in there?" She'd asked suspiciously, to which Vegeta simply replied "What do you think? We both train."

This wasn't enough to satisfy his curiosity, so she continued. "Trunks isn't even _walking_ yet, what do you mean you both train?!"

"He may not be walking yet, but how do you expect him to learn without observation?"

This was enough to leave Bulma stunned, and she watched as Vegeta brushed past her and made his way upstairs for a shower. Sure enough, which each passing day, the Bluehead could see a bit of a change in her son. He was still only standing when he had something to latch onto and save him from falling, but he seemed more focused and confident than ever. Was this due to normal development, or did Vegeta have anything to do with it? The more she became used to the idea of the two spending alone time with one another, the more comfortable and flattered she felt. As even more days passed, though Bulma still had some resentment towards Vegeta, when she thought of him there was less hurt and more pride at the idea of him being the _father of her son_.

...

"What a little champion!" Mrs. Briefs was calling. Everyone was in the backyard except for Vegeta, who had disappeared into the woods for the day. Bulma had a big grin on her face, silently assisting her son in moving his feet. She was holding him by his two little hands and stepping backwards, the baby teetering towards her with each move. "Oh, come on!" Bulma cooed, noting that she was hardly having to support him at all as he practiced his steps. ' _Alright!'_ She was thinking. ' _He's got this!'_ If he went just a little further, she'd let go and allow him to practice without help.

Baby Trunks looked up at his mother as he took another step. He was wobbling back and forth a bit, his mind racing in disbelief. He just couldn't believe that he was standing - _he_ was standing! And he was walking, too! Sure, he was doing it with his mother's help, but he was still moving _! At this rate, he would be flying like his father in no time!_ It was with this cocky thought that Trunks made for another step, but he shifted his weight too much and went toppling forward.

 _'Ah!'_ Bulma thought. ' _He was so close!'_ She was used to her sons' reactions during moments like these, so she stepped back to give him space. Mrs. Briefs, however, went running to his side. "Oh, come here! Poor baby!" She called, opening her arms to take him into her hands.

Trunks was pissed. _He'd been too close to fail now!_ And his grandmother's coddling was disturbing him even more - _couldn't she see that he was trying to walk?_ She was just going to pick him up and whisk him back to the house without giving him another chance! Why, she _was getting in his way!_ The baby shot a glare up at his grandmother and pushed her hand back when she grabbed at him. If only he was able to form words - he'd tell her to back off!

Bulma felt her heart jump when she saw her baby's face - he reminded her so much of Vegeta during times like these. That furious glare, and that determination to be independent. He was definitely his father's son, and thinking this gave the blue-haired mother yet another sensation of pride. She turned to see that Mrs. Briefs' expression had dropped from being rejected by her own grandson, and Bulma couldn't help but to feel for her. "Don't worry, he's a stubborn little guy," She pointed out, in effort of comforting her. "I don't think he gets that from our side!" And with that, she turned to Trunks and placed her hands on her hips. "You get that from your _Daddy_ , don't you? Well come on, let's see it! Get up, Trunks!"

_Daddy?_

Trunks blinked up at his mother, appreciative that she seemed to understand. With her permission he slowly lifted his head from the ground. It took a lot of focus on his part, but a moment later he was on his knees. As Bulma and her parents watched, Trunks lifted himself to his feet and stood triumphantly as he fought to keep his balance. "Good job!" Bulma cheered. It seemed that referencing Trunks to his father was all of the motivation he needed, so she jokingly chimed "Now, become a Super Saiyan!"

"Isn't it too early for that?" Mrs. Briefs giggled, applauding her grandson's success.

Trunks' legs trembled as he struggled to keep from falling. Sure, he wasn't _walking_ yet, but he was at least standing without any help at all! The baby grinned, knowing that it was only a matter of time until his goals would be accomplished. He couldn't wait to show off his new skill the next time his _daddy_ took him into that ship.

Little did Trunks know that Vegeta wasn't surprised at all when Bulma shared the news.

"He stood all by himself today!" She gushed when the saiyan had returned to the house a few hours later. Vegeta hardly responded, taking a bite out of an apple he'd retrieved from the refrigerator. This disappointed Bulma to the point that she became cross. After all of the time Vegeta had been spending with his son, she'd expected at least _some_ type of reaction. "Did you hear me?" She raised a stern eyebrow. "Your _son_ stood on his own today! Don't you care?!"

"Am I supposed to be surprised? Of course the boy is going to make progress after our time in the ship." He shrugged, taking another bite from the fruit in his hand.

Once again the Bluehead was stunned into silence. This was something that had always attracted her to Vegeta - they had different ways of thinking, but he was definitely smart. He'd been helping Trunks in his own way - through " _observation",_ as the saiyan himself had put it. Had this been a part of his plan all along, or just an anticipated bonus?

In her thoughtful state, Bulma finally remembered something else she'd wanted to share with him. "I don't know if you had plans to train with Trunks tomorrow or not, but I'm taking him out with me."

"Oh?" The saiyan, who hadn't necessarily been planning to include Trunks on his training, hardly cared.

"I'm taking him with me to Chi-Chi's place for a visit."

 _Chi-Chi? Kakarot's woman?_ Ah, _now_ Vegeta was interested. He'd finished his apple, so he dropped its core into the trash bin and turned, wiping his hands off onto his shirt. "I see. And what time are we going over there?"

 _We?_ Bulma furrowed her eyebrows. " **Trunks** and I will leave after breakfast." She replied, dragging her words as she spoke.

Vegeta nodded and began to head out of the room. "Good to know... I'll make sure to be ready, then."

Once again Bulma was stunned. "I... I didn't invite you!" She called as Vegeta disappeared through the door, and he didn't respond. Why on Earth did Vegeta care if she was going to visit with Chi-Chi or not? Chi-Chi had called her earlier in the day, telling her she had something important to speak about. By the sounds of it, it was something personal, and she wasn't sure if she'd want Vegeta to be around to hear.

"Great. A trip with Vegeta." Bulma muttered out loud. " _Just_ great."


	11. Gohan's Guilt

* * *

It was only 10 in the morning, and the sun still seemed to be rising in the sky when the yellow helicopter descended upon the grassy terrain that made up Chi-Chi's property. The sound of the helicoptor's blades whipping through the air was enough to alert Chi-Chi that her guests had arrived, and before the Briefs family had unbuckled their seat belts she was already standing at the door and waving.

"Hi!" Bulma called when she popped her head out of the 'copter door and began to walk towards the round hut, toting Trunks in her arms as she went.

"Well, would you look at little Trunks!" Chi-Chi replied with a smile.

Bulma and Chi-Chi hadn't necessarily been the closest of friends. In some ways, they had very similar personalities - they were both smart, strong women, who made their opinions known and weren't known to back down from confrontation. It was for these same reasons, though, that the two women had butted heads on numerous occasions in their lifetimes. However, it was also because of this that there had always been a common respect for one another. Bulma, who had been busy with her own affairs, hadn't really hadn't spoken to Chi-Chi much in the time that had passed since Goku's death. She'd thought of her often, though, and seeing her now was something she felt was long overdue.

Chi-Chi was wearing a large button-up sweater over the typical dress that she sported, which was unusual enough. But there was a sadness in her eyes that she wasn't successful in hiding, even when she smiled. Her deep black hair, though it was in the same bun that she always wore on her head, looked much more messy than Bulma had ever seen. There were faint dark circles forming under her eyes, and the lines upon her face made her look much too old for her age. This was a look that instantly reminded Bulma of her own anguish that she'd experienced when her and Vegeta's relationship had been at its worst, and she instantly found herself embracing her best friend's wife in a heartfelt hug. Little Trunks' eyes widened in surprise as he was squeezed between both of the women's bosoms as a result. Chi-Chi seemed to sink into Bulma's hug, as if it were something she'd been craving for an incredibly long time. Before Bulma had a chance to say anything there was a loud slamming noise, and the two women looked up to see Vegeta, who had finally taken the time to step out from the helicoptor's door.

"Oh," Chi-Chi breathed, obviously not enthused about seeing the saiyan standing before her. "He insisted on joining me," Bulma whispered back. Chi-Chi watched silently, hesitant to express her true feelings about the saiyan being there. She gave a weak smile in Vegeta's direction, unsure how to explain that she'd wanted to only speak with Bulma... _alone_. The Bluehead understood fully though, having been fluent in the language of _girl-code_ , so she turned and waved to her ex-lover. "Just chill out here for a bit, okay?! We need to go take care of something inside!"

Vegeta nodded in their direction with a grunt that they couldn't hear, and he crossed his arms. "Would you like something to drink?!" Chi-Chi called out, always one to make her guests feel welcome - even if they _weren't_. This time Vegeta shook his head, his arms still crossed. It was then that Bulma shrugged, and the two made their way inside, leaving him alone in the wilderness.

* * *

The small hut was what Chi-Chi and Gohan referred to as "home", and it certainly felt like one. It was much more cramped than Bulma was used to with her own house, but it was cozy and warm nonetheless. The two women sat across from each other on the couch, with little Trunks crawling around on the floor below them. They sipped at their tea, partaking in small talk, but there was the awkward air of impending news. Chi-Chi could tell that Bulma was waiting to learn what she'd been invited over for, and finally she decided to get it over with.

After a few moments of hesitation, Chi-Chi stood to remove the large sweater she'd been wearing. She turned her back to Bulma, carefully placing the cloth on the couch. It would only be another moment before Bulma understood what she'd been going through... The blackheaded widow closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath of anticipation. It was then that she turned to reveal her front, and as she'd expected, she heard Bluehair take in a loud gasp.

"You're-you're" Bulma breathed, covering her mouth in surprise. "How far along are you? You're already _showing_!"

Chi-Chi opened her eyes and looked down at her stomach, placing a careful hand over her little baby bump. It was still quite small, but so was Chi-Chi. The bump protruded out enough from her thin frame that it was unmistakable. "I'm probably about eight weeks along. I think I've known ever since the day Goku died." It was with this that her lip began to tremble, and tears began to well at her eyes. "I could just _feel_ it, you know? As soon as I knew Goku died, there was something inside me saying that Goku wasn't truly gone - there was a part of him left _in_ me..." The tears were streaming down her face now.

This had to have been the saddest thing that Bulma had ever heard, and she quickly realized that she was crying too. The two women embraced each another once more, sobbing in unison over the common grief for the man they both missed so much. "But when did it happen?" Bulma asked - she knew it was a stupid question, but she felt compelled to know. She was still in shock at the situation, never having imagined that Goku had a new baby he'd never get to meet.

"During the 10 days before the Cell Games." Chi-Chi replied sadly. "Those days we spent together were the sweetest we'd ever had. I've been so mad and grateful at the same time - it's almost as if he _knew_ he wouldn't be coming back. He left me with one last part of him, but now I'm all alone to raise two children! I can hardly afford to live right now as it is! This baby was his last gift to me, but sometimes it feel more like a slap in the face." Chi-Chi wiped the tears from her eyes and backed away, turning to put her sweater back on.

"We can hardly afford to feed ourselves - and I'm still worried about Gohan's college tuition!" She continued. She was making her way into the kitchen, which really wasn't far from the couches they'd been sitting in. Her voice was rising, and Bulma could tell she was growing increasingly mad. It was obvious that as much as she missed her husband, she had some pent up resentment about her current situation. Chi-Chi pulled a chopping board out of a cabinet and began to cut up a carrot. "Did he not think about us when he did this?!" She gasped, her knife slamming into the vegetable at top speed. It was enough to make Bulma nervous, as she watched the blade grow dangerously close to her friend's fingers with each motion. Chi-Chi finished chopping with no incident and scooped the carrot into her hands, walking over to pot of boiling water that had been left on the stove.

" _Sure_ , he gets to have the time of his life in the afterworld, while I'm left behind with two mouths to feed and hardly _any_ _income_!" The widow was nearly yelling now as she dropped the vegetables into the pot of stew that she was working on, grunting under her breath with each second. Bulma sat and listened, letting her friend vent as much as she needed to. Chi-Chi was emotional from her pregnancy and had valid worries. Bulma could really understand where her friend was coming from, and she decided that she was going to do all she could for her in this time of need. If that meant lending an open ear so Chi-Chi could rant, then so be it. "It's just not _fair!_ " The widow was hissing, throwing a lid on the pot and slamming a cabinet shut over her head. A moment later she was back in a state of sobs, hiding her face in her hands as she wailed "Oh, I just miss him so much!"

Bulma got up and made to comfort her friend, but before she had the chance the two women were startled by a loud crash outside. The two jumped and turned, staring into the direction that the explosion had come from.

"Gohan?!" Chi-Chi croaked.

Bulma was just as worried, gulping down her shock. "Vegeta?!"

* * *

After the two women had disappeared into the house with Trunks, Vegeta made his way to a nearby tree and leaned against it, relaxing under the shade. _So this was Kakarot's home_ , he noted. Vegeta had to admit that he was impressed - it wasn't nearly as luxurious as he preferred, but he admired how secluded and close to nature it was. He could hear the sound of running water and recognized that a river was flowing nearby, and he thought for a moment of how many benefits could come from living in such wilderness. Kakarot had good taste in property, he could give him that...

It was then that he heard the sound of footsteps approaching him through the grass. The saiyan lazily cocked one eye open to see what it was.

Ahead of him was Gohan, who looked rather miserable, as he walked towards the older saiyan. That boy - the one that Kakarot had fathered and sacrificed himself over... Vegeta hadn't seen him in quite some time. Vegeta carried a reluctant respect for this child's strength, and he was interested to see what Gohan was intending to say. Whatever it was going to be, the boy sure looked _burdened_ about it.

After such a large battle Gohan had been exhausted, but he hadn't had a good night of sleep since. His mind was overridden with thoughts of everything he'd seen and everything that occurred, such memories keeping him up as he lay in bed each night. It had always been a biggest fear of his to lose anyone he loved, and it was against his gentle nature to ever destroy or hurt. Even when it came to killing Cell, he'd had a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea of what he'd done. But what affected him the most was that he felt he'd let his Dad down. He'd struggled to unleash his full power before it was too late, and as far as he was concerned it was his fault that Goku had to make the ultimate sacrifice. His father's face was something that wouldn't evade his mind, and it left him in a somber state of survivor's guilt.

Vegeta could see this on him as Gohan approached, and when the boy finally spoke it made his skin begin to curl. "Umm, Mr. Vegeta?" He mumbled, looking up at the saiyan dubiously. The tone he spoke with was too pitiful for someone who'd done something as honorable as defeat a being such as Cell, and it was enough to make Vegeta grit his teeth. "What do _you_ want?"

Gohan had come to expect such a crude response from Vegeta, but it unnerved him nonetheless. "I've been thinking, and I just wanted to say... I just wanted to say..."

The saiyan was growing impatient, and he finally snapped his fingers. "Say _what_? Spit it out, boy!"

Gohan dropped his face and shrugged. "I just wanted to say thanks for, you know, helping me fight Cell and all. I don't think we would have won if you hadn't hit him with that blast..."

"Of course, boy!" Vegeta threw his head back and let out a grunt. "It's in a warrior's blood to know instinctively when to attack. Don't thank me for something so measly!"

This statement made Gohan's shoulders slump, and he only nodded grimly in response.

"What's _with_ you?" Vegeta growled, scrunching his nose. He was feeling more disgusted with each passing moment that Kakarot's son acted in this way.

"I just feel bad, Mr. Vegeta." Gohan, who was too self-deprecating at that point to care about holding his thoughts back, replied with honesty. "My Dad would still be alive today if it weren't for me-"

This was enough - this was _all_ that the saiyan prince could bear to hear leave Gohan's mouth. There was a dormant jealousy that had been residing within, and he began to grow frustrated with how Kakarot's boy behaved. Gohan had accomplished something that Vegeta had worked 3 damned years to do, and yet had _still_ failed at! This boy had mustered the power to blow that green toad to Hell, something that many had died in effort to accomplish, and _this_ was how he celebrated? He spent his time pitying himself rather than basking in the glory of his success?! The way he was behaving was a waste of triumph, and it was an insult to the saiyan heritage! Vegeta was instantly reminded of how bashful his own son from the future had been, and he suddenly blamed Gohan for this. Hadn't Future Trunks cited Gohan as his mentor? What was wrong with Kakarot's boy to act in this way?! _Where was his honor?!_

Vegeta quickly shot out, grabbing Gohan by the shirt and lifting him off the ground. "Not another word like that, boy!" He spat, glaring at the child with fury. "Pull yourself together and act like a _true_ saiyan!" Gohan's eyes widened, but otherwise he did nothing to protest Vegeta's actions. "Do you hear me!?" The saiyan prince continued, irritated by how submissive the child was being. "Not _another_ word!"

This did nothing to stir Gohan, and he shook his head sadly, even as Vegeta held him into the air. "Go ahead and hit me, Mr. Vegeta... I deserve it for killing my Dad..."

 _That was it_. Vegeta let out a frustrated yell. "You didn't kill Kakarot, damnit! _Your father_ was an idiot! An _**idiot**!" _ He gave Gohan a violent jerk for emphasis. The preteen gasped slightly from the force of Vegeta's actions, and he grasped at Vegeta's arm to steady himself, digging his nails into the skin. "Mr. Vegeta..." He grunted slightly, the saiyan prince continuing to hold him in the air.

Vegeta could feel the slight twinge of Gohan's ki beginning to rise, and he knew it was working. "What's wrong, boy? You don't like to hear the truth about your _old man_?" He continued with a smirk.

"Mr. Vegeta!" This time Gohan was actually raising his voice, his nails digging into the saiyan prince's skin even deeper. "Don't say that about my Dad!"

This caused Vegeta to chuckle. "Or else what? You'll run into your room and cry? Are you going to _actually_ defend him, or are you going to finally admit the truth? Your father was scum. Do you understand!?"

That was too much for Gohan to hear. He let out a yell, and with a single breath his ki had skyrocketed. He continued holding onto Vegeta's arm for leverage as he leaned back, rising his leg to kick at Vegeta's face. The saiyan turned his head to dodge the attack, and then he threw Gohan with all his might. It was with this that a fire formed in Gohan's eyes, and he powered up even more, stopping himself in midair to prevent his body from crashing into the ground. "Don't insult my Dad!" He yelled, charging for Vegeta and throwing a punch at his head, which was dodged successfully. Vegeta let out a laugh and flew a few meters back, landing in a ready pose with his hands up. Gohan did the same, his chest heaving as he fought to control his anger.

"He was an idiot, and he put us _all_ in danger. He gave Cell one of those rejuvenating beans before his battle with you. What kind of father would you attribute that as!? It was irresponsible and _stupid!_ " Vegeta taunted, an eager smirk planted on his face. "It was as if he _wanted_ you to fail, but I think he was too much of a fool to understand!" The saiyan blood coursing through his veins was delighted by the adrenaline, waiting in anticipation for another attack.

"You take that back!" Gohan's hands were balled into fists, and he was snarling now. "Take it back, _now!_ "

Vegeta shook his head, readying himself for how pissed off Gohan was sure to become with his next statement. "He was paying his own debts when he died. It was his own fault, and you know it."

That was the last straw. Gohan let out another primal scream, his hair instantly charging into an electric yellow bolt. " _You_ _!_ " He crowed, racing for the saiyan prince and swinging punches as fast as he could. Vegeta was blocking and dodging each move with a smirk, and when he saw an opening his landed his fist into the adolescent's cheek. The blow was enough to cause a large crackling sound, but it merely made Gohan flinch, the fire in his eyes untamed. "How dare you speak about my father!" He yelled, charging up even more and throwing himself back at Vegeta.

"Give me your best shot, _boy_ , I've seen what you're capable of!" Vegeta was careful to make his tone as condescending as possible, continuing to dodge each one of the boy's moves. It was when Gohan threw a punch to the side of his face that Vegeta blocked, and Gohan took the chance to knee the saiyan in the ribs. Vegeta, who had been taken by surprise, let out a breathless gasp of air, to which Gohan slammed his elbow into his mouth.

"Apologize, Mr. Vegeta!" Gohan hissed, jumping back and giving him some space. Vegeta was breathing heavily now as he wiped the blood away from his lip. He let out yet another chuckle, and spat onto the grass beside him. "Is that all you've got, _boy?_ " He taunted. "Do you feel the storm brewing within? Doesn't it piss you off to know I'm right - does it make you want to just _**kill** _ me?"

At that moment Gohan wanted nothing more than for Vegeta to stop talking, and _he_ was going be the one to shut his arrogant mouth up! He let out another growl and cupped his palms together, allowing his attack to charge. Vegeta, who was enjoying every moment of this exchange, let out yet another laugh. "That's it, boy, go ahead and _try_!"

"Shut **_UP_!** " Gohan screamed, pushing his hands forward and unleashing his power beam. Vegeta jumped into the air to dodge, and Gohan moved his hands to aim his beam after the saiyan prince. Vegeta weaved through trees, relishing in the exhilaration he felt as he led the energy through his obstacle course. He aimed himself at one tree in specific, flying at it with full speed as Gohan's beam followed shortly behind his trail. It was when Vegeta was only a _few_ hairs away from colliding with the tree that he changed course, and Gohan didn't have enough time to accommodate before his blast shattered into the tree, resulting in it exploding into a large cloud of smoke.

Vegeta, who was nearly delirious from the exchange, was making his way back to Gohan as the smoke dissipated behind him. Gohan was gasping for breath, exhausted from this duel that he hadn't been prepared for in the slightest.

"Do you feel the _power_ now, boy?" Vegeta taunted, balling his hand into a fist as Gohan watched. "Do you understand?"

Not too much time passed before the door to the hut flew open, with Bulma and Chi-Chi running outside. "What's going on!?" Chi-Chi was crying, before getting a good look at her son. Gohan was still in his super saiyan form, his cheek sporting the hue of a bruise from the punch Vegeta had landed on him. "My _baby!_ " Chi-Chi raced for her son, wrapping her arms around his face and pulling him into a hug. "What happened?!"

Vegeta, who's clothes were much more tattered than he'd realized, wiped another drop of blood away from his mouth. His eyes were still lit up in the ecstasy that came from such a primal battle. Bulma didn't approach him in nearly as manic of a way that Chi-Chi had done to Gohan - she slowly walked up to her ex-lover and put her hands on her hips. Vegeta responded by shooting her a sly grin, and Bulma shook her head. "I can't believe you." It wasn't that she was scolding - she sounded completely unsurprised, yet completely exhausted of the situation.

"It was necessary." Vegeta replied curtly, not caring to explain. Especially not in front of Kakarot's wife, who seemed much less rational than his own woman. He turned back to Gohan, pointing a finger at him and spitting to the ground. "Listen, _boy_. I can tell you're already growing weak! You haven't been training at all have you? Instead of pitying your circumstance, you'd do better to embrace your natural pride. The next time you feel like apologizing, _come see me_ and _I'll take care of you._ "

"Vegeta!" Bulma shot, but the saiyan prince ignored her. It wasn't in her to understand where he was coming from. She was smart, but she was still only human. She didn't _have_ the saiyan instincts within. She didn't _have_ warrior blood. Gohan, who was back to sporting his naturally black hair, simply stared at Vegeta in disbelief. All he'd intended to do was thank the man for assisting him in Cell's defeat - he hadn't been expecting Vegeta to be such a _dick_ about it, and he certainly hadn't expected to end up in a fight.

"What happened?! What are you talking about!? Sweetie, are you okay?!" Chi-Chi gasped, looking from Vegeta and back to her son. Gohan pulled away from his mother's clutches and simply shook his head, turning and making his way to the house without another word. He now had one more thing in head to think about, and he hated to admit how much better he _actually_ felt. Some of his guilt had evaded him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. Vegeta was too much of an asshole to be _right._

"Oh, I can't believe _you!_ " Bulma snapped as she watched Gohan sulk away, and this time she really was scolding. She turned to Vegeta, her eyebrows furrowed. "I can't leave you alone for _five minutes_ , can I?! You stay _right_ here, and don't do anything else _stupid_!" She began to make her way back for the hut, and when she returned she had Trunks in her arms. "Vegeta, get in the helicopter! We're leaving!" Bulma yelled, before softening her tone towards the widow next to her. "Chi-Chi, I am so sorry about everything. I'll call you later - let me make it up to you! I _mean_ it! I'm _going_ to makes up for this!"

Chi-Chi was still in shock from the entire ordeal, and she nodded faintly. "I-I'm sure my baby's alright... He's-he's been through worse..." She stuttered, her hands protectively placed over her stomach. Chi-Chi watched as Bulma led Vegeta back to the copter, hissing at him as they stepped inside the vehicle.

"Well..." The widow breathed. "Aren't they just the... _power couple_?"

* * *

 


	12. A Brief Digression

* * *

"What were you thinking, though - I mean _really_?!" Bulma was gripping the wheel to her helicopter hard enough that her knuckles were turning white. They'd been up in the air for 10 minutes on their way home, and she'd spent the entire time going off about Vegeta's behavior. "His _father_ just died!"

Vegeta, who was sitting in the passenger seat, had his arms crossed and was glaring out the window. He'd been waiting for the tirade to come to an end, but it only seemed that it was drag on indefinitely. It was starting to wear on him. He hadn't expected her to understand, and initially that made it easy for him to ignore her badgering. But, as time continued, he could feel his patience slipping away. "Damnit, woman! The boy lacks pride!" He finally snapped, gritting his teeth.

Baby Trunks, who was buckled up in his carseat in the back, was listening with intrigue. He wasn't ready to speak on his own terms yet, but the infant was able to understand the majority of what others said around him. He was going to have to remember this word - _pride._ Whatever it was, his father seemed quite passionate about it!

"Did you listen to _anything_ I just said?! His _father_ just _died!_ " Bulma, who had originally just been annoyed, had worked herself into a fit. "It's none of your business if he isn't feeling his best! In fact, he's _allowed_ to feel bad! It's his right!"

Vegeta was on the verge of losing his temper, and he was fighting to keep it in check. He'd been going through enough changes as he adjusted to a life on Earth. He'd seen it in himself, and he'd become more accepting of what was to come. But the oath of a saiyan's pride was something he would never disown. He wasn't going to allow Bulma to cross the line and attack the honor that his people held so dear. He didn't expect her to completely understand, but he _did_ expect her to respect his race.

"I had something _very_ important to discuss with Chi-Chi, and you messed it all up!" The Bluehead was ranting now, her cheeks sporting a pale shade of red. "You invited _yourself!_ And you chose the _worst_ time to start acting crazy!"

That was it - what little bit of patience the saiyan had left had finally been used up. " _Don't_ interfere!" He snapped. A familiar tone with the rage that was beginning to curl in his voice.

" _No,_ Vegeta!" Bulma shot back. "Don't you dare tell me off right now! _I'm pissed!_ "

"Big deal!" Vegeta snarled. "Since when are you _not_ angry about something?! That doesn't mean _shit!_ "

In the back seat Trunks let out a pleasant coo. _Shit. Shit!_ Now, THAT was a word he'd heard before! From what he'd deducted, it was an incredibly naughty thing to say. But if his own father was able to use it so liberally, then perhaps it wasn't so bad after all...

"Watch your language in front of Trunks!" Bulma hissed before continuing. "I am _not_ always angry!" Not only had she been fuming at having to leave Chi-Chi during such a vulnerable time, but she was now irritated that she was suddenly the one on the defense.

"Right, of course." Vegeta crossed his arms once again and turned back towards the window, looking out at the clouds as they flew.

"That's not even the point!" Bulma hissed. "You shouldn't have acted that way!"

Vegeta clenched his jaw to try and hold back his temper, but it was to no success. All that he wanted was to get through the flight in silence, and to not be badgered about something so relentlessly. Yet her tirade seemed to only be getting worse, and he just couldn't _take_ it anymore! " ** _ENOUGH!_** " He finally barked, turning to shoot a glare at his woman.

Trunks, who had been absorbed in the conversation up until that point, felt his little heart jolt at the fire in his father's tone. ' _Oh no!'_ He thought. ' _He's mad! He's REALLY mad!'_ Unnerved, the infant let out a heart wrenching sob.

"Great, _now_ you've made Trunks cry!" Bulma looked over her shoulder, eyeing her son helplessly as she drove. She brought the helicopter to a stop, the vehicle hovering in midair as she reached into the back for a toy to give her son. "Don't worry sweetie, everything okay! Daddy's just being his mean old self!"

The vehicle was stopped and Bulma was distracted - this meant that he had his chance! The saiyan, who was desperately eager to get a moment of peace, took the opportunity to throw open his door.

"What are you doing _now_?!" Bulma gasped, looking up from her son to eye the saiyan prince as he threw his seatbelt off. "I cannot take you and your pestering any more! I'm flying _myself_ back!" He snarled, and with that Vegeta jumped out into the sky. He charged up in an instant, disappearing into the distance with a trail of wind shooting out behind him.

Bulma fought the urge to yell, biting the inside of her cheek. ' _Of course he would leave!'_ She thought bitterly. ' _Of course, of course! He runs away from **everything!** '_

_.._

She spent the rest of her flight back in a state of impatience to see the saiyan prince again. She hated having to leave disputes unresolved, and the longer she sat in silence the more bothered she became. Vegeta had said that she was _always_ finding something to be mad about. Sure, he might have been saying this in an act of defense, but what if it was true? It just wasn't _fair_ for him to speak things like that, not when she had 1,001 reasons to be mad at him.

 _SHE_ was the one who had tried so hard, for years, to make things work between them. _SHE_ was the one whom he had run off on for months at a time, with not even a regular phone call to keep in touch. _SHE_ was the one who had wasted so much of her time in an emotional state, constantly getting her hopes up only to have them broken yet again. He'd continuously been screwing her over in the time that they'd known each other, so what right did _he_ have to say that Bulma was always mad about something? She was angry about _valid_ things, so why did it bother her so much that he felt this way? There was a part of her that felt even more upset to think about it, but inside there was also an unmistakable sense of guilt.

 _Guilt - GUILT!_ As if she had been doing something wrong. Why should _she_ feel guilty when he'd hurt her so badly, for so long? Either way, she was eager to see him again so she could finish giving him a piece of her mind, and then she'd finally be at ease.

It was because of this, then, that Bulma was a bit unnerved that Vegeta wasn't yet waiting for her at the Briefs residence when she landed her helicopter and went inside. After walking all through the house it was evident that he wasn't there, so she went out to the ship to see if he was training. Alas, the ship was empty as well, and Bulma returned to her yard feeling dejected. He'd told her that he was going to be flying himself home, but he hadn't specifically said _when_ that would be. "He is _so_ annoying!" She hissed to no-one in particular, placing her hands on her hips and looking up to the sky. "It's not fair!"

It was an unyielding state of anxiety that she was stuck in, attempting to distract herself from her mind as she gave Chi-Chi an apologetic phone call, took care of Trunks, and addressed things around the house. Despite her efforts, Bulma would find herself glancing out the window as if to see Vegeta hovering in the sky on his way back to the house. And each time she glanced to see that he wasn't there, the pit in her stomach grew even more dense. When the sun had disappeared from the sky and Bulma looked to the clock to saw it was nearly 8, she began to feel a bit faint.

"What if he doesn't come back?" She muttered, swallowing down the lump that was forming in her throat.

* * *

It was well after midnight when Vegeta stepped foot into the Briefs household. It'd taken him hours to calm down after his altercation with Bulma, and he waited even longer before making his return. The idea of another argument with his woman was enough to deter him from flying back - he'd even considered sleeping on a mountain that night. But as he thought of his woman and son, something inside wouldn't let him stay out. Although he wasn't exactly enthused about the prospect of having another futile argument, he knew that staying out would only result in even worse issues between the two. And the idea of being on even worse terms with his woman wasn't desirable in the slightest. So he had strategically waited until the sun set, thinking that perhaps he could get away with returning when everyone was asleep. She would most likely try to pick up where they'd left off the next day, which was not unheard of with his woman, but at least he'd have a peaceful night of to prepare himself.

After arriving at the house, Vegeta made his way upstairs without making hardly any sounds. There hadn't even been the creak of a floorboard. He was being excessively careful not to stir even the bugs that slept in the walls, and when the bedroom door had finally closed behind him the saiyan let out a breath of relief. He'd made it to the safety of his own quarters, and he couldn't wait to pull himself into bed.

Feeling successful, he eagerly pulled his shirt off over his head. He began to make his way to the closet, letting his pants drop to the floor as he went. Vegeta had taken a liking to the walk-in closets that were featured in every bedroom of the Briefs residence. There was enough space inside that he could comfortably take his time in selecting which outfit he wanted to wear each day, although this time he took no hesitation in grabbing a pair of pajama pants from a hanger. He was still dressed in only his boxers when he heard the bedroom door shutting from outside. Letting out a curse under his breath, Vegeta's muscles tightened... It'd been naïve of him to assume he'd gotten away with his plan - not when it came to evading _her_ radar...

Knowing fully well what was waiting for him on the other side of the door, Vegeta poked his head out of the closet to see Bulma. She stood on the other side of the room with a scowl, her back pressed firmly against the wall. "What is it now?" He whispered, not wishing to wake any of the other inhabitants of the house - _especially_ not Mrs. Briefs.

"It took you long enough to show back up." Bulma placed her hands on her hips, sporting her disapproval. Vegeta stepped out from the closet and took a look at her, a smirk forming at his lips. It was to his pleasant surprise that she was wearing _that_ robe again. That white robe, with its _thin_ material, and her _full_ figure... It didn't leave much to the imagination as it sat snuggly on her frame.

"And why should it matter to you how long I stayed out?" Vegeta wasn't going to excuse himself this time - it was his right to be upset after she'd badgered him for so long. The saiyan, who was still nearly naked, strolled to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer.

He was turned away from Bulma now, and she watched the muscles in his back tensed as he dug around in the drawer. It was an instinct that her lungs had to tighten up when she saw his body. It didn't matter what state their relationship was in - she was utterly and helplessly attracted to him, and there was nothing she could do about it. Being in such close proximity to him while he was in such an _exposed_ state would made her knees threaten to bend, but she fought back the sensation. She was more than just a little bit intoxicated with attraction, but the need to finish what they'd started earlier was enough to keep her on track. She'd been _desperately_ waiting for his return so that she could get closure. Now that he was finally back, he _still_ wasn't giving her the type of attention that she wanted, and it was getting to her. "We were having a discussion!" Bulma said, pointing a finger into the air. "You can't just leave in the middle of a discussion!"

Vegeta's shoulders rose as she spoke, and he stopped digging in his drawer. He could find what it was that he was looking for later. " _That's_ what you call it? Yelling at me non-stop is considered a _discussion_. Good to know."

" _There you go again!_ " Bulma hissed. She marched up to the saiyan and groaned through her teeth. "How _dare_ you treat me as if _all_ I do is find things to complain about!"

The dresser drawer had been shut, but Vegeta still didn't turn back around to face his woman. "When it comes to how you interact with me, then yes. That statement is true."

"No it's _not!_ " She didn't understand why this bothered her so much, but it did. Bulma had never thought of herself in the way that Vegeta was describing, and it was too much for her to handle. She'd been angry with him, and she felt that all of her reasons to get after him were valid, so why did it bother her so immensely to hear him say such things? _Why did she care?_

As if he were reading her mind, Vegeta spoke. "Anyway, woman. Why does it matter to you?" He teased, and it was then that he _finally_ turned to look at her. He'd known she was standing close to him, but he was unprepared for what seeing her so near would do.

Bulma was only about fifty centimeters away, and she was standing completely still with her fists to her sides. She was so close to him now that he was getting quite the view, her thin robe flat against her chest. In that same moment Bulma was watching Vegeta's torso, trying to mask the blush that was forming on her cheeks. When Vegeta took a step forward, she thought her heart was going to stop. She looked up to his eyes, and she could see a glint forming in them... A gaze that she hadn't encountered in a _long_ time...

His lips feeling dry, Vegeta ran his tongue over them. His mind was beginning to race with the desires he felt in that moment, and was a struggle not to act on them. He wanted to - he wanted to _bad_ , but he would never do something to his woman unless she indicated that the desire was mutual. He could feel as familiar instincts began to twinge inside, and the saiyan took a step back to put distance in between the two. "Well?" He finally said, looking up to her eyes. "Why does it matter how I feel?"

Vegeta's eyes were pitch black with lust, a determined expression planted in his cheeks. It always flattered her when she could tell what he was thinking _about her._ Enchanted, Bulma took a step to compensate for the distance he had put between them. She could hear her own heartbeat now, and there was a quivering in the pit of her stomach. "Because..." She whispered, taking yet another step to her man. She was still so relieved to know that he had returned, and a desire to feel him close was diluting her anger. She found herself wanting to be as close to him as possible in that moment, and there wasn't much stopping her.

Just as Bulma had recognized the look on his face, Vegeta was familiar with the expression in her eyes as she moved dangerously close to him. "Woman..." He grunted, trying to warn her off. The ape-like instinct inside was threatening to usurp his mind, and he was considering leaving the room to prevent such an incident. "Don't come any closer. I want you to step away..."

"Or else what?" Bulma wasn't one to be told what to do, so she made no hesitation in assuming his statement was a bluff. She took a playful step forward, shooting him a condescending smirk. _Even if he had been serious and lost control of himself, would she have really cared?_ The question crossed her mind, and she was amused at how easy it was to discard such a thought. Only a few moments earlier she would have yelled something nasty just to prove a point that she didn't want him, but she was now completely unbothered by the idea of his skin touching hers. By now they were but a few centimeters away from one another, and she took in a deep breath. She puffed her chest out in a mock of his usual posture, placing her hands on her hips. "This is _my_ house, and I can do what I want in it..." And with that, she held a finger up and poked him in the shoulder.

Vegeta's hand flew up and caught her wrist with rapid speed, and he raised an eyebrow. "You defy me, even when I warn you so generously..." His voice was low, and he pushed her arm back. Without speaking another word he grabbed her by the face and pulled her into him, slamming his lips against hers with ferocity. Bulma immediately let out a muffled groan, pushing herself deeper into his body and rubbing her palms over his chest. Vegeta took that as nothing less than encouragement. And so, with that bit of consent on her part, he lost all will to fight back the instincts that were taking charge from within.

Bulma didn't complain when Vegeta lifted her and carried her to his bed, placing her down in a sitting position and taking a step back. She didn't object when he pointed a finger and huskily instructed her to untie her robe - in fact, she obliged with fervor. Bulma didn't even protest when he climbed on top of her and ran a tongue over the arch of her neck - to the contrary, she let out a hiss and bucked her hips against his.

It was her behavior that Vegeta took as encouragement, so he continued on with not another thought of hesitation. This was an interaction he'd been craving for too long, and the more skin he touched, the more wild things felt. The robe, though pulled open in front, was still settled on her frame, and Vegeta ripped it off with hardly a care that the material might be ruined. Bulma let out a gasp, her skin stinging for a moment from the shock of his actions.

She attempted to grab at him, to return the attention he'd been giving her, but the saiyan clasped her wrist and pushed it back. " **No** -" he growled, his voice gruff, before pressing his face into her chest and giving her breasts an appreciative kiss. It was _a_ kiss that he gave them - only one - before flipping her onto her stomach. He wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her to her knees, and then he positioned himself over her.

The desire was so intense that he didn't care to prolong the experience, and when she let out a shrill moan as he entered he knew she felt the same way. There had been times when they'd had encounters like this that he'd taken the time to explore her body, appreciating each crevice of her skin before finalizing their act. She'd always made an effort to return the attention and he never really let her. He was always excited enough just by looking at her - he didn't _need_ her to use her hands to work him into a state of frenzy. He'd rather participate in the main course of action than waste time on her playing with him. And as Bulma gasped below him, scratching at the blanket and pressing her face into the mattress to muffle her approval, Vegeta knew that her own body wasn't going to need much convincing in order to reach its peak. He was able to hold off long enough to feel her thrashing below him, throwing her head back in that familiar way that displayed her satisfaction. And after this moment of confirmation the prince allowed himself to give in to the fires that were blazing within, closing his eyes as he grabbed her hips and slammed one last time against them. His head was in a state, his body sinking and floating at the same time, his mind losing itself as chills ran through his spine and he was overcome by ecstasy.

A few moments later the two were laying side by side. Vegeta was panting, sweat trickling down his temples, when he pulled himself up to a sitting position. He sat beside Bulma, who lay gasping for breath and staring at the ceiling. The saiyan wiped at his forehead with his arm and licked his lips dryly, turning to glace at his woman. She was pulling a sheet up to cover her body, and her sweaty hair was swept to the side.

_He'd been so caught up in his own lust that he hadn't even thought to hold himself back._

"Are you okay?" He asked breathlessly, suddenly feeling uneasy at the idea of his own strength. He wasn't sure how forcefully he'd handled her, and he knew there'd been times before when he'd accidentally hurt her during their encounters. Bulma simply nodded though, still looking straight ahead. It was as if she were in shock by what had just happened and wasn't ready to make eye contact.

After the saiyan caught his breath a bit more he stood, grabbing at his pajama pants that he'd left on the floor. He pulled them over his legs quickly, his mind racing. "I'll be back," He stated before turning to the door and making his way to the bathroom. Bulma was sitting up now, and she watched as the door silently shut behind him.

Inside the bathroom Vegeta used a damp towel to clean himself off, his mind distracted as he rubbed at his skin. He couldn't believe what the two had just done - especially considering how bad things between them had been as of late. Vegeta went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He looked down at his hands, callouses covering his palms, and he balled one into a fist. The aftermath of their affair felt much different than any of the other times they'd been intimate, and he looked up at the mirror to stare at himself in thought. There was a lot of pride welling within, although he was also a bit uneasy. In his bed was a beautiful woman, naked and breathless after an encounter they hadn't planned. There had always been an impulse inside that told him to run after moments like these, but now there was an even stronger urge to get in bed with her in make sure she wasn't hurt after how rough he might have been. What would he say when he walked back in to see her? How should he act? These questions wandered through his mind, and as the saiyan prince made the walk back to his room he was having trouble deciding on what to do. Opening the door was enough to make him take a breath of hesitation, anxious to see the beauty within to room for a variety of reasons.

It was because of this, then, that it should have been a relief when he finally opened the door. Unsure of how he would handle himself, the saiyan had been in a state of confused anticipation. So why, then, was he not pleasantly surprised to peek inside and see that his bed was empty? Why did it feel like a let down when he realized that she'd gotten up and left while he'd been away?

_Damnit._

He hadn't thought to trace her ki as he took care of himself in the bathroom, and because of that he'd been caught off guard. He was now consciously making an effort to sense her whereabouts, and he knew she's gone to her own room.

 _'Well...'_ Vegeta thought for what must have been the thousandth time since he'd begun trying to get in Bulma's good graces again. _This certainly wasn't how he'd been expecting his night to go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... I hope you enjoyed this one!


	13. Did That Just Happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know if I was going to be able to get this one posted tonight, and I'm so glad I did! Thanks to everyone who is offering feedback. I really enjoyed that little discussion in the comments for Chapter 12!

* * *

_Did that really just happen?_

To say she was overwhelmed would have been an understatement. Bulma clung to the sheet that covered her body, still catching her breath from what she'd done _with_ Vegeta. Yes, as she sat in silence and replayed the scene, she was pretty sure that she and Vegeta had just taken part in some completely random, completely enjoyable intercourse.

_Intercourse?_

With Vegeta? After she'd been trying for so long to move on? After she'd been so upset with him throughout the day? Sure, she'd been tempted before, but up until that point she'd always been able to keep herself together. "Oh, no..." Her jaw was quivering. This time she'd really lost control, and she'd done it so _eagerly_. Was it because she'd actually been concerned about how long it took him to return home? As upset as she'd been, there was no denying how pleased she was to see him come out of the closet clad in only his boxers...

There was only one certainty among the disbelief and confusion swarming in her mind, and all she was really sure of at that moment was that she felt vulnerable. She was laying naked in his bed... He could be coming back in at any moment, and _she was laying **naked**... in his bed! _

Bulma threw the sheet off and dove across the room for her tattered robe, though her body fought back in the process. She could feel bruises forming under her skin, and she winced at the sensation. The only other time that she'd felt this much pain after sex with Vegeta was their _first time_. When they'd first done it he'd been completely wild, though he showed remorse afterwards. After that she'd ached a few times as a result of their love making, but he'd generally treated her much more gently and she hadn't felt as bad as the first time again. So, it came as a surprise that she felt so much pain now - was it because he'd grown much more strong since the last time they'd _done it_ , or had he just forgotten that she needed a softer touch? She was a _human_ \- she didn't have muscles and pain tolerance the way saiyans did!

Cursing under her breath, Bulma pulled the robe on. It had rips slashed down the sides from where Vegeta grabbed it, but at least it provided _some_ protection for her figure. And then she ran, fleeing through the hallway to dive into her own bed before Vegeta had the chance to emerge from the bathroom and see her in her state. She was sobered from her lust now, and the _last_ thing she wanted was for him to see her naked.

When Bulma's head hit her pillow she let out a sigh. She was safe in the darkness of her room, her thick down comforter sinking into her skin, and at last things felt relatively normal. She was a bit messy after their encounter, but she couldn't bring herself to care to wash up. There was a light headed sensation that came with being so overwhelmed, and at the same time the rest of her body was still in a state of bliss from her own ecstasy.

 _'I can't believe we did it!'_ Bulma thought as she snuggled into her pillow. She could feel herself being pulled away as her body drifted to sleep, almost as if her mind was being sucked into a vacuum. The last thought she had was of how much she enjoyed when Vegeta looked at her with lust, just like he had only a few moments earlier. A small smile formed at her lips, though she'd never let him know how flattering she truly found it...

..

Vegeta was surprised at how quickly Bulma had dozed off. In his shock to see his bed empty, he'd immediately turned without thinking and made his way through the dark hall. When he got to her room he pushed the door open without knocking and stepped inside. There was a bit of light from the moon that was shining in through the window, and with it he could see that Bulma was laying with her back to him. Vegeta carefully stepped closer, noting that she wasn't acknowledging his presence at all. Initially he thought she was ignoring him, but as he stood over her he could see that her eyes were pressed shut. Her chest was rising and falling melodically, and her breaths were rhythmic. Vegeta crossed his arms as realization took over, and he tilted his head to the side.

Bewildered and amused all at once, he raised his eyebrows. _She really HAD fallen asleep!_ How had she been able to do it so effortlessly? Was her mind not as overridden as his? The saiyan was so afflicted with his own thoughts that he wasn't sure if he'd get _any_ rest that night - and here lay his woman, completely passed out! Was it a good thing or a bad thing that she seemed so relaxed after their encounter?

His thoughts were interrupted when Bulma let out a sudden moan, rubbing at her eyes and then turning over onto her stomach. ' _Well_ ,' Vegeta thought. ' _She sure seems comfortable...'_ He backed away, deciding it was best to leave her be. However, before he returned to his own room, Vegeta made sure to pull her blanket up over her shoulders to ensure that she'd stay warm.

..

The next morning Bulma was knelt down, wiping oatmeal from Trunks' face as he flailed about in his highchair. With a groan she pulled herself up, grasping the tray of the chair as she went. The muscles in both her lower back and thighs were tightening in retaliation to her sudden movements. "Mother _fuuuck_ ," She whispered, placing a hand on her leg and taking in a deep breath.

"Hmm, I thought we agreed not to cuss in front of Trunksie!" Mrs. Briefs was sitting at the kitchen table and eating her own breakfast, watching her daughter's struggle with slight concern. The blonde grandmother hadn't gotten the best night of sleep, and she could see that Bulma hadn't either.

"Right," Bulma muttered with slight irritation. When one was as in as much pain as herself, obscenities were justified! Regardless, she snapped her fingers and pointed at her son. "You hear that, Trunks? Bad word! Don't listen to Mommy when she says _bad words_ , okay?"

"Oo-ie!" Trunks replied, which was his way of saying ' _okay'._ He threw both of his hands in the air and waved them, delighted at hearing his mother use such naughty language. If his own Dad _and_ his own Mom could both speak such words, then surely they must not be so bad!

Bulma smiled down at her baby, momentarily forgetting about her physical discomfort. He really was growing more with each day, and though he still wasn't walking as much as she would have liked, he was still astounding her with how quickly he was changing. Just a week earlier he didn't have a vocabulary at all, and suddenly he was trying to form words and communicate verbally. It would only be a matter of time before he'd be running around the house and talking her ears off.

Though she was sporting a cheerful expression, it began to drop when _he_ walked into the room. His hair still wet from the shower he'd taken, Bulma could smell the soap he'd used before Vegeta had even stepped into the kitchen. She could feel his eyes on her even as her back was turned, and he swiftly made his way to the table and took a seat across from Mrs. Briefs.

"Good Mornin', V!" Mrs. Briefs sang. "Have some pancakes, will ya?! We've got plenty!"

Vegeta didn't respond, which was typical of him, and he immediately began to serve himself. As the saiyan worked on his breakfast, Bulma moved to the kitchen counter, where she had left her cup of coffee. The Bluehead picked it up and began to take a sip, finally turning to her mother and the man she wasn't so sure about facing just yet. He was already looking at her, and when their eyes locked he shot her a wink. Bulma nearly choked, fighting to maintain her composure despite how badly her heart had just jolted.

This exchange went without notice from Mrs. Briefs, and she happily got up to pour herself a glass of milk. "Seems like you're the only one who slept well, Vegeta!" She sang. "Why, Bulma didn't sleep right and is all sore from it this morning! And I had such a _strange_ night, too!"

"Oh?" The saiyan replied, his eyes still locked on his woman. His pupils seemed to be piercing her own – he hadn't even blinked! Bulma pursed her lips nervously. Desperate to break the eye contact, she turned to watch her mother awkwardly.

"Yeah! I tell ya, it was _so_ weird! I could _swear_ I was hearin' strange noises while I slept, but whenever I woke up they'd suddenly stop! But I could _swear_ they were real!" Mrs. Briefs continued. "It almost sounded as if there was a burglar in the house, thrashin' things around and making a big deal! My husband kept telling me to just go back to sleep, though! He thought I was just dreaming it all up!"

Bulma's eyes widened at the description her mother was giving, hoping that her blush was hidden behind her mug. She turned back to Vegeta, now unable to face her Mom. The saiyan hadn't looked away from Bulma the entire time that Mrs. Briefs spoke, and as she'd told her story an amused gleam flashed across his face. He raised his glass of water to his mouth. "Oh? _What_ did you say the noises sounded like?" His voice rang with concern that was so exaggerated it almost sounded condescending. He took a sip from his glass, shooting another wink towards his woman. Bulma's breath caught in her throat, and she gripped the handle of her mug even tighter.

Oh, how had she gotten herself into this? How could this be happening, and _what was he doing?!_

"I said it sounded _just_ like a burglar, darlin'!" Mrs. Briefs chimed. "In my sleep I could swear that there was someone' upstairs, goin' through you guys' rooms, and banging stuff around! But whenever I started to get out of bed the sounds seemed to stop! Then, as soon as I'd start relaxin' again, they'd seem to start right back up!"

"Well, how interesting!" Vegeta raised his eyebrows, smirking at Bulma. "What do you think, Woman? Did you hear anything strange _last night_? Anything that was... _banging_ around?"

With a scowl, the Bluehead quickly shook her head. "No, I didn't hear a thing. Dad was right, you were probably just having a dream." _Damn him_ , she thought, her hands nearly shaking. What was _wrong_ with him?! Vegeta had taken an innocent comment and turned it into such an unpleasant situation! It was just like him to find amusement from this, too. He was taking what they'd done and was rubbing it in her face, right under her own mother's nose! _Why, oh **why** had she let herself give in to temptation?! _

"Really? _Neither_ of you heard a thing?! Maybe you guys are right, then..." Mrs. Briefs sighed, scratching her head. "It was just strange because it seemed so _real!_ And it kept me up, too! Oh well... At least Vegeta seems to be in such a _good mood_ today, it seems like he's the only one who got a decent amount of rest!"

This was an ironic comment since Vegeta was pretty sure he was the _only_ one in the room who _hadn't_ slept a wink. He shrugged though, going along with the blonde woman's words and allowing the conversation to transition. He'd had fun toying with his woman - Bulma was so blatant with her embarrassment, and the fact that it all went past Mrs. Briefs' head only added to his joy.

"Well, I'll be working from home again." Bulma finally announced, pouring herself another cup of coffee before she began to limp towards the door. The Bluehead hadn't returned to work since the afternoon she'd fallen ill - since then she'd spent a week telecommuting as she recovered from her ailment. It was a Monday morning, and although she had originally planned to return to the Capsule Corp building that day, her aching muscles deterred her from wanting to go in. With each moment the pain under her skin seemed to worsen, and she had expected that much from experience. She knew that her pain was going to reach its peak by the evening, and gradually lessen throughout the next week. Vegeta was conflicted as he watched his woman move. He was secretly pleased to know that she wouldn't be spending the day with that _beta male_ , but he was also unnerved to see just how much he'd hurt her during their rendezvous the night before.

"See, V? Bulma slept bad and is havin' a hard time this morning. You're the _only_ one who had a good night!"

"Yes, well... It happens." The saiyan replied, pushing himself back from the table and rising to his feet. Without another word he was gone, leaving Mrs. Briefs and Trunks alone in the kitchen. He followed Bulma's trail as she walked down into her father's lab. Dr. Briefs had gone into work that morning, so they it was just the two of them when Vegeta spoke to make his presence known. "Woman..."

"You've got some nerve, you know!" Bulma seemed to have been expecting him to go after her because she didn't act surprised to hear his voice in the slightest. Her tone was strained from her walk, and she had her eyes pressed shut as she leaned against her desk for support.

"What did I do _now?_ " The saiyan asked, knowing fully well that she was irritated by his behavior during breakfast.

"That crap you pulled back there!" Bulma hissed. "Look, _you_ might not care about my parents having heard us, but _I_ do!"

"Oh that?" Vegeta said coyly. " _No,_ I was just asking your mother about her night!"

She turned, poking a finger into Vegeta's chest. "Look, don't you _dare_ think this makes anything change between us!"

"Of course things change!" The saiyan smirked. He put his hands on his hips and nodded. "You want me, and _now_ you can't deny it."

Once again heat began to rise in Bulma's cheeks. She absolutely hated blushing, and he seemed to be doing this to her a lot lately. "I do _not!_ You... You...! You _seduced_ me, _that's_ what happened!" This was quite the accusation to throw at someone, but Vegeta was completely unbothered. "We both know that isn't true."

Bulma was taken aback by his uncharacteristically good mood. Did their encounter have something to do with it? It seemed that nothing was getting to him this morning! She took a few steps back before hitting her desk, unsure of what to say. "You... You _still_ haven't explained to me why you acted the way you did towards Gohan!" She stuttered, desperate for something to grasp at to use against him. The fact that she was only _just now_ thinking of Gohan bothered her. She'd been so upset about the incident at Chi-Chi's house, but ever since they'd slept together she hadn't given it another thought! Was her focus slipping? Had this been some kind of a plan of his?

Vegeta patted Bulma on the shoulder, the smirk still planted on his face. "It needed to be done, Woman. It was good for him. He didn't care nearly as much as you do. Just wait and see, he'll be crawling back for Round Two before long." And it was with this that his eye twitched, and with a chuckle he added "Gohan isn't the only one who will be wanting a _Round Two_ , though your desires will be of a different nature..."

"You - you can't just decide things like that! Gohan isn't like you, he cares about more than just sparring!" She hissed, choosing to ignore his latest innuendo.

Those words finally took the smirk off his face. Vegeta crossed his arms, his eyes hardening with authority. "There isn't anything wrong with choosing dignity over wallowing in self-pity." With that he backed up. "Now, I'll leave you to your work."

 _'Why, thank you!'_ Bulma thought sarcastically.

"Oh, and woman." Vegeta had turned away now, but he was looking at her over his shoulder. "Try to feel better."

"What makes you think I feel _bad!?_ "

"I can tell. I meant to restrain myself, but I got careless. For that I take responsibility. But do feel better. _Understand_?"

"I never said that I felt bad..." _Only Vegeta could take words of concern and turn them into an arrogant command._ Nevertheless, Bulma found herself smiling as she shook her head. "You're full of it, Vegeta. If you hadn't held back I'd probably be in the hospital by now."

"Maybe so…" He grinned. "But I was still too careless, and I acknowledge that."

* * *

Things were relatively uneventful for the next week. Bulma made a point in keeping her distance from the prince, and Vegeta seemed to respect her wishes - although the good spirits didn't seem to leave him. Every chance he got he seemed to be cracking some sarcastic joke to her. Even though she was refraining from speaking with him in an effort to prove that things were not going to change between them, it was inevitable that they would cross each other's paths when they were staying in the same house. When this happened he was always quick to shoot her a smirk, wink at her, or even make a subtle reference to their night together in a way that only the two of them would understand. While it originally bothered her, after a few days Bulma got used to it, and she even began to enjoy it. This was a side to Vegeta that she wasn't used to encountering for such a long period of time, and there had been more than a few occasions when she found herself thinking about his change of attitude while she was supposed to be working. " _You want me, and now you can't deny it."_ His words rang in her ears, and she wondered if she'd really played a part in his unperturbed demeanor. ' _Wow,'_ She'd think smugly. ' _I really was able to do that to him...'_

At the same time, although her anger about how Vegeta had treated Gohan had lessened, the saiyan's words on Bulma's temper still lingered in the back of her mind. This was another thought that intruded more than once, and it was on one afternoon when Bulma was sitting at the desk in her room that she really began to ponder things. It had been easy to assume that he'd said it in the heat of the moment, but then again... Vegeta had stood by his words when she'd confronted him about it. _Did he really feel as if all she did was find things to criticize him about?_ Was she really _that_ much of a nag, or was he just unable to recognize the errors of his ways? Bulma hated to admit it, but there were several flaws that came with distancing herself from her man - and the main one was that it made communication rougher for the two. It wasn't as if the two had the best ways of discussing things to begin with, either...

She shook her head, trying to bring herself back to the task at hand. Before her mind had wandered to Vegeta she'd been mustering up the patience to give a certain person a phone call. It might have been a week since her night with the saiyan, but it'd also been a week since her conversation with Chi-Chi. During that time Bulma had been trying to decide what the best way to show she cared would be. And finally she had an idea on what she could do for her friend - it seemed ridiculous at first thought, but most good ideas always did. The only problem was that she would need some help if she wanted to turn her plan into a reality. So, with a bit of hesitation, she finally picked up her phone and punched a familiar number into it.

She took in a few deep breaths, listening as it rang...

...And rang...

_...And rang..._

But finally, when Bulma was about to hang up, a voice came through on the line.

"Hello?"

"Yamcha, it's me."

Suddenly the tone in his voice soured. "Bulma? What do you want? Don't you have _someone else_ that you can go talk to?" Leave it to Yamcha to make a backhanded comment that was uncalled for, resulting in the Bluehead rolling her eyes. His suggestion was definitely a jab, especially since he _knew_ that she and Vegeta weren't together... _Were they?_ Now that she thought about it, Bulma couldn't exactly put her finger on what her relationship with Vegeta was...

_What an odd feeling..._

She ignored the strange sensation in her gut that she suddenly had, not wanting to lose track of why she'd called. "Very funny, but you're the only person I can easily contact. If you give me Krillin's number I'll leave you alone."

"What are you wanting to talk to Krillin about that you can't tell me?" Now, instead of bitter, Yamcha sounded offended.

"Well, to start with, he won't begin our conversation in such a rude way!" Bulma snapped.

"Jeez - HEY! I was only kidding! Calm down! Now come on, tell me why it is that you need Krillin's phone number!"

Bulma sighed. She'd only been speaking with Yamcha for 30 seconds, and they were already nearly in an argument. It was amazing how easily confrontations seemed to follow her around, and once again she couldn't help but to think back on what Vegeta had told her days ago. Maybe she really _did_ find too many things to complain about... So, instead of yelling, she chose to take a deep breath, and slowly she explained about Chi-Chi's situation. Yamcha listened quietly, and when she was done he said "So... Chi-Chi is pregnant... but that still doesn't explain why you need to speak with Krillin."

"Because I want to throw her a baby shower, and I want him to help me."

"I don't know Bulma... I'm not an expert on kids, but isn't it kinda soon to be throwing one of those?"

"Look, I know it's early. And Chi-Chi may not even want anybody else to know yet, but she needs our support. She has a lot on her plate, and I think if we do something for her now it would take some weight off her shoulders. At least she wouldn't have to worry so much about how she'll afford things for the baby! It might help her have a less stressful pregnancy."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

Another deep breath had to be taken on Bulma's part. "Just give me Krillin's phone number, like I've asked you _several_ times!" How she'd even managed to date him for so long was something she wasn't sure she'd ever know.

"Take it easy, will you?!" Yamcha groaned, putting her on hold while he looked up his friend's contact information. After Bulma wrote down his number she hung up the phone, happy to _finally_ have a way to speak with Goku's best friend so they could plan something nice for his widow. It was going to require some quick planning since Bulma wanted to shower Chi-Chi with gifts as soon as possible. Hopefully, then, maybe - just _maybe_ , her friend wouldn't have to worry quite as much...

The Bluehead stretched her arms and stood. After the phone conversation she'd just had she needed a break before starting a new one. Bulma walked to her window and peered outside, looking over the landscape as the sun set in the sky. With all of the confused emotions that were circling within, it was to her pleasant surprise that Vegeta was actually out in the yard as she watched. He was standing over Trunks, speaking to him as the infant wobbled on his feet. "Is he encouraging him, or berating him?" Bulma wondered out loud, a soft smile forming at her lips.

... Down in the yard Trunks was teetering as he practiced walking, his feet threatening to give out at any second. "Son, at your age I _refuse_ to carry you anymore! _I know_ you can do this, so you'd better become accustomed to getting your own self around." Vegeta was stating, his hands on his hips as he watched the infant. Trunks stuck his arms out at his sides to maintain his balance. He agreed with his Dad, but at the same time he felt indignant. It wasn't _his_ fault that he hardly had a chance to practice walking - how was he supposed to get much done when the women of the house preferred carrying him over leaving him be?!

"Keep going, boy. You'd probably be running by now if the others didn't coddle you so much."

These words eased Trunk's irritations. At least _Daddy_ understood why he'd hit a plateau! Filled with a newfound joy, he furrowed eyebrows in concentration. If his father wanted to see him walk more than just a few steps before falling, he was going to _do just that!_

_._

... Up in her room Bulma was still smiling. "Aww, look at them!" Her heart was starting to flutter. "He really _is_ good with Trunks, isn't he?!"

... Back down below, Trunks had managed to make his way to the other side of the yard before losing his balance. The child hardly had time to react before Vegeta was standing over him, his arms crossed. "Don't you dare even _think_ about crying, understand? Get up. Now." This might have been the first time that Trunks had encountered _deja vu._ Just like when his mother was encouraging him to stand on his own for the first time, Trunks found Vegeta's no-nonsense approach refreshing. He instantly got back on his feet and continued to teeter across the yard. His father didn't react to Trunks' resiliency - why should he care when it'd been expected of him? And as Trunks toddled with his fatherly strictly watching, the two boys heard a familiar voice cracking through the air.

"Hey! What are you guys doing?!"

Vegeta turned to see Bulma walking towards them. _She_ was approaching them? After days of giving him a cold shoulder, this was a nice surprise. His expression softened. _He had known it'd only be a matter of time before she came around, and here she finally was..._

His eyebrows rose and he nodded at her, one side of mouth turning up into a half-grin. He'd been looking at her like this ever since they'd shared a night together, and Bulma hated to admit how much she enjoyed seeing such an expression on his chiseled face. It was only for a brief moment that Vegeta watched his woman in this way before turning back to his son and returning to his previous scowl. "It's about time that the boy learned how to escort himself around without relying on others."

This wasn't exactly what Bulma had expected to hear, but it didn't surprise her. _Leave it to Vegeta to be a fan of tough love_... The Bluehead smiled and put her hands on her hips, looking down at her baby. "Oh, but he knows how to stand and take steps! He just doesn't seem ready to actually start walking yet!"

"Nonsense, of course he's ready! The only reason he hasn't made more progress is because of everyone pampering him so much. There's no excuse for it." It was then that Trunks fell again. Vegeta didn't speak as he watched the baby pull himself up on his feet. Bulma, however, let out a cheer. "Good job, _Trunks_! Way to get back up! Yay!"

"There you go, Woman. Coddling him again. This is exactly what I mean."

This wasn't something that Bulma had ever thought about, so she was taken by surprise. "What are you talking about!? All I did was encourage him!"

"Every saiyan should be able to motivate himself. He doesn't _need_ you hovering over him all the time."

"There isn't anything wrong with giving him a pep talk." Bulma turned back towards her son. "Isn't that right, Trunks?!" The boy had the same determined look on his face that he always got when he was attempting to do something that required focus, and he didn't react to her words.

"See? He doesn't need that! Even the way you speak to him sounds as if you were trying to imitate a baby. How's the boy going to learn to talk when you patronize him so much?" Vegeta wasn't scolding, but was rather speaking as if he were explaining a concept to her. Regardless of how he spoke, it was hard for Bulma to not feel slightly offended. In a way it was as if he were criticizing her parenting. "Hm! There's nothing wrong with baby-talk!" She huffed, her voice growing higher in pitch. "After all, Trunks _is_ a baby!"

" _Y_ ou Earthlings and your soft ways. Wouldn't you _love_ to see how the saiyan race handled their offspring from the day they were born..."

"Yah!" Trunks shouted then, interrupting his two parents from their civilized disagreement. He'd managed to get all the way to the space ship, where he was now standing and waving his arms in triumph.

"Way to go, TRUNKS!" Bulma cheered, clapping her hands and jumping up in the air. It was as if she were trying to prove a point. She smiled and looked back at Vegeta, as if to say _'I can handle my son however I want, so THERE!'_ To the contrast Vegeta simply crossed his arms and gave a slight nod, silently approving of his boy's achievement.

Trunks _really_ had made a lot of progress - could it be that his _Dad_ was doing something right during their time together? Bulma had just stopped applauding when she gave Vegeta a sideways glance. He was standing with his head high, his eyes fixed on Trunks. She looked back at her son and smiled, feeling warm inside as her little family stood together.

It was when she found herself wanting to take Vegeta by the hand and squeeze it that she realized just how comfortable she truly felt in the moment, and that thought alone made her suddenly feel afraid. She didn't _want_ to feel so at ease with him - she didn't _want_ him to be right about their status! He was just too cocky to be right! "By the way, things still aren't going to change between us." She whispered, hoping that her voice sounded convincing.

Vegeta crossed his arms and shook his head, not even looking back at his woman. "Of course that isn't true."


	14. Bulma's Return To Work

Many days had come to pass, and Tadashi had nearly gotten used to Bulma's absence. Morning after morning, he'd walk into the Capsule Corp building with the small gift he'd bought tucked away in his pocket. He'd wonder, as he made his way to the elevator, if it would finally be the day that he got to give it to her. And each day, as he reported to Dr. Briefs' desk, he would learn that she was still out sick. It'd already been a couple of weeks that she'd been " _out sick"_ , and Tadashi couldn't help but to wonder.

_Was she alright?_

_Was she really **still** sick, or had something else just come up that kept her from making her return?_

The last time Tadashi saw her, she'd been in the company of a pretty strange man who had flown out of a tree. They seemed to know each other fairly well, and she seemed completely un-bothered by his actions. In fact, she'd handled the encounter as if she was used to his behavior, and was merely too tired and sick to care. The two seemed seasoned with one another – Bulma had spoken to that black-haired man in a way that indicated disagreements were common between the two, yet she still didn't seem to mind his company.

Their chemistry was hard to read. Was he perhaps a brother or an old family friend? _No..._ First of all, there was no genetic resemblance whatsoever. And the man had obviously been jealous – he acted more like a possessive lover than anything else! And yet Bulma hadn't seemed to show any type of affection towards him. _Perhaps they were ex-lovers_? Or maybe this man really _was_ a family friend, and happened to have unrequited feelings towards Bulma. Whatever it was, Tadashi somehow found it hard to feel insecure. She hadn’t shown any romantic interest in that guy!

Yet still – that muscular beast seemed to have a fiery temper, and the thought of him being alone with Bulma made Tadashi uncomfortable. _If he really was an ex-lover – if he REALLY was someone who still had romantic feelings for her, then why did he treat Bulma in that way?_

Whatever the case was, there was another striking factor that was throbbing in his mind to distract him from such a thought. Regardless of her history with this black-haired man, her reaction to him was disturbingly casual. She'd hardly flinched a muscle in his direction, and this seemed like a strange response althogether – especially considering the fact that he had _flown out of a tree!_

Perhaps it was Tadashi's mind playing tricks on him, but there was no other explanation for it. Tadashi _knew_ what he saw, and he _saw_ that spiky haired monstrosity propel straight into the sky by what seemed to be 100 meters! As if that weren't disturbing enough, the man landed on his feet, in a pose, with no broken legs, and was completely unharmed by the fall.

 _How could this not have affected Bulma?_ Had she not _seen_ what Tadashi had seen? The blonde intern decided that this had to have been the case – she'd simply been too ailed at the time to notice what exactly this spiky-haired man had done. Yes – that _had_ to be it! It didn't matter how smart and rich in life experience that Bulma seemed to be – there was just _no way_ that she could possibly witness something like that and not be startled!

_As the days continued to go by with no sign of Bulma returning to work, Tadashi began to steadily grow more and more worried. She'd seemed quite sick when he dropped her off at her place, but surely she would have gotten better by now? A stomach flu didn't last nearly as long as this, so where on Earth was she?_

_Did the black-haired man have anything to do with it?_

–

It was typical that a Monday morning brought with it groggy risings and dread for the week to come. Tadashi had been running particularly late on this day, having burned his breakfast after oversleeping by an hour. His food rendered inedible, and running late on time, Tadashi hadn't eaten or been able to even mend to his appearance as much as he normally did. He hair was rather unkempt, his outfit unironed, and his shoes still untied. He'd hardly had time to even brush his teeth! But he'd _made it to work on time –_ he managed to beat the clock by _just_ a few minutes, and that was enough to cheer his moods. At least, that was until he heard _her_ voice.

**_Bulma._ **

She was back? Finally?!

Her voice was drifting through the hall, and he caught a glimpse of her trademark hair as she disappeared into a room. When his breath caught in his throat he realized it was true, and immediately Tadashi was bolting the opposite direction down the hall and into the nearest bathroom. He looked himself in the mirror and let out a groan. He wasn't one to pay an excessive amount of care into his looks, but he still had standards for himself.

"Of all days, it had to be today?" A small croak formed in his throat as he dampened his fingers under the tap and tried to slick his hair back. In just a few minutes he was going to face Bulma for the first time in nearly a month, and he looked more unkempt and flustered than she'd _ever_ seen him before. The more he examined himself in the mirror, the more insecure he felt. Tadashi was watching as his cheeks grew red before his very eyes.

"Dammit, get it together!" The intern hissed, slamming a fist on the counter. Why was it that she always seemed to have this effect on him? He'd always been a bit of a fidgety guy, but he was still usually more confident in himself! And this - _this was ridiculous_!

It took a few minutes of deep breathing, giving himself a pep talk, and waiting for his cheeks to return to a normal hue before Tadahi felt as ease enough to re-emerge from the bathroom and make his way to report to Dr. Brief's office. It was when he was just about to turn into his boss' office that the door flew open and out charged a certain Bulma Briefs, her hands balled into fists by her sides as she went. She nearly smashed straight into Tadashi, and the intern jumped back to avoid such an impact.

"Oh!" Bulma screeched, jumping as well. She'd had an angry expression on her face, but it quickly softened as she attempted to compose herself. "Excuse me!"

She was beautiful – she was gorgeous, and she was standing right in front of him. A warm emotion began to drift through Tadashi's veins as the blonde intern fought to keep his cheeks from turning red once again. Had it been so long that he'd forgotten just how attractive she was, or had her time off somehow managed to soften her features? Her figure seemed more slim than he'd remembered, as if her sickness had caused her to lose a considerable amount of weight. Yet she didn't necessarily appear unhealthy – in fact, there was a glow about her that made her look quite a bit refreshed.

"You're feeling better." He managed to say, unable to keep a grin from forming at his lips.

Bulma returned the gesture with a smile of her own, nodding modestly. "Yes. I was doing pretty bad for a while, but everything is fine now. I was just running off to do some paperwork. After I catch up, I think Dad – I mean, Dr. Briefs - wanted us to have a quick meeting with him and discuss the progress you two have made during my absence."

It was with this that Bulma nodded politely and continued her charge down the hall, disappearing around a corner and from Tadashi's line of sight. The intern was almost sad to see her go, but inside he felt relieved by her words. ‘ _Great_ ,’ He thought. It seemed that he had more time to compose himself before having to see her again...

The meeting between Bulma, Tadashi, and Dr. Briefs was short and straight to the point. Bulma carried a notepad in her arms, on which she scribbled down notes as her father spoke and explained the status of numerous projects. The intern stood, watching the two interact, feeling a bit out-of-place as he didn't contribute to the conversation at all. In fact, the attention was so removed from Tadashi that he found his mind drifting to places that were inappropriate for the situation. _How much longer would it be until the day was over? What was he going to have for dinner that night? What was it that he needed to do once the meeting ended, again?_

It was towards the closing of the meeting that Dr. Briefs made a certain comment that snapped Tadashi out of his thoughts. "We're glad to have you back, darling. It seems your time off with Vegeta brought you back in great spirits!"

 _Vegeta?_ Was _that_ the name of the spiky haired man he'd encountered? While the intern was interested, taking a mental note to remember this name, Bulma seemed to tense beside him. Something about her air seemed to suddenly change, and Tadashi could definitely sense it. He turned curiously to see a certain glint in her eyes.

_What was this?_

"I wasn't staying home because of _Vegeta_ ," She hissed through gritted teeth, to which Dr. Briefs let out a chuckle. "Oh! Alright, alright. If you say so."

Tadashi watched in shock as Bulma sent a look of warning to her father, her shoulders rising protectively around her head. "This is inappropriate, _dad_..."

Why was she so defensive about her time off of work? Did this man, Vegeta, really have a reason behind it after all? _Could it be that there was something going on behind closed doors that only Bulma and Vegeta knew of? Why was she being so secretive?_ Tadashi felt his mouth go dry as he watched Bulma, her eyebrows furrowed as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

… Everything was suddenly making sense… Vegeta's temper, his hostility, the way he'd spoken to Bulma, the way she handled it...

 _‘I don't believe it…’_ He thought, realization suddenly settling in...

"Could you just _stop_ bringing these things up?!" Bulma's shrill voice snapped Tadashi from his thoughts. He blinked back his ponderings and turned to see Dr. Briefs waving a careless hand to his daughter. "Alright, alright. Sorry dear. I'll try to keep things more professional from now on."

"We are going to have a talk later, _Doctor Briefs_!" Bulma hissed, shooting one last glare in her father's direction before turning away. She walked off, her head held high, her lab coat blowing out behind her.

The intern watched as she went. Whatever the reason was that Bulma had been triggered into such a bad mood at the mention of _Vegeta_ , Tadashi was pretty sure he had an idea. Suddenly so much made sense – how tough and stern she made herself out to be... How reserved she acted, yet in a rare moment she could open up to show just a glimpse of how sweet she truly was. And, above everything else, Tadashi remembered how sad he'd seen her on his first day of work. How she'd looked at him, tensed, and turned to hide her pain. Tadashi blinked slowly as pity and anger welled up inside, realization washing over his body.

 _‘Vegeta!’_ Tadashi thought bitterly. He knew _exactly_ what was going on between them!

_That bastard._

–

Vegeta locked himself away in the ship for a day of training. He didn't particularly like the idea of Bulma leaving the house to return to work once again. It wasn't quite that he had a problem with her returning to _work (_ though he was surprised at how much he lamented her absence), but it was the fact that he knew the feeble little man would be at the office as well. For an entire day Bulma was going to be in close proximity with a beta male who had set his eyes on her. On _Vegeta's_ woman. And that thought made that saiyan's skin curl in a manner that left him unable to decide if he wanted to choke or if he wanted to destroy an innocent building or two. So, instead of doing either, Vegeta had decided to lock himself away in the ship for a strenuous day of training with the Gravity Machine set to the highest capacity that he could manage.

He'd meant to act cool when _she_ came home. He could sense her ki as she descended upon the Briefs residence, landed her car, and made her way into the house. And despite his intentions to act nonchalant, he found himself quickly shutting the Gravity Machine off and hurrying to meet her. When he walked in he found his Bluehead in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. She hardly looked in his direction at all, which only added to the saiyan's bitter emotions.

Of course, she didn't know that her mannerisms bothered him. She didn't know that he'd been anxiously awaiting her return all day, despite his attempts to distract his mind. Bulma didn't know that he'd been reluctant to hear her leave that morning. And she _certainly_ didn't know how uneasy the thought of her spending an entire day with that _weak man-child_ made the saiyan. To say that idea made him twitchy was quite the understatement – the image of Tadashi standing up close to Bulma as the two scanned over blueprints made his skin curl. And now, here she stood after a long day away, and she was practically ignoring him.

"Oh – Hey, Vegeta." Bulma muttered tiredly when she turned and locked eyes with the man before her.

Silence was returned back, the saiyan folding his arms over his chest. Her shot her a glare and mumbled a greeting under his breath.

With a sigh she placed the empty glass into the sink. "What is it?" The Bluehead placed a hand on her hip. "Are you just in a bitchy mood, or did I actually do something wrong?"

This time Bulma received a smirk in response to her words. Vegeta, a knowing leer on his face, shook his head. "The question should be asked by me instead – what did _you_ do today?"

His attitude was something she was used to – though she hadn't encountered it for quite some time. Not since their night of intimacy several weeks before. "You're crazy," She groaned, pushing herself back from the counter she'd been leaning against. "I've had a long day, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for _you_." As she made her way through the kitchen Vegeta stepped aside to let her pass. He turned and watched as she went, allowing his eyes to rest on her gyrating rear for a few seconds before turning back around. For such a brilliant woman, she could be incredibly dense. At times this amused him, and at other times this frustrated him to no end.

.

Days turned into weeks, and each day that Bulma came home from Capsule Corp she found herself feeling more and more tired. How she went so long working full-time was beyond her – now, as a mother who had enjoyed the luxury of years off for both maternity leave and making preparations for the end of the world, the Bluehead was having the hardest of times re-adjusting to a more routine and "normal" life.

Vegeta, his opinions having gone unspoken, had been growing increasingly more resentful of his woman's time away. Each morning she would casually make herself up and leave, with hardly a word or glance behind her as she went. And each evening she would return, focusing primarily on herself and Trunks before retreating to her bedroom for the night. The Bluehead had made a habit out of acting willfully distant from Vegeta long before her return to work – this wasn't a new behavior. Yet this was becoming unacceptable for him. How _dare_ she continue to treat him so coldly after spending the majority of her days out of the house? If she could give Tadashi so much of her time, she should certainly be able to address Vegeta properly when she came home!

It was vexing, and the saiyan could feel his mood slipping with each passing day. Yet he fought to refrain from acting out on his temper. He'd tried for so long to get into the good graces of his woman again, and the idea of undoing all of his own work was enough to steer him away from confronting her.

That was, until one day when she came home and Vegeta watched as she removed her coat in the entryway. She seemed exceptionally cheerful that afternoon when she'd walked into the house, shooting a wide smile at him and happily saying "hello". It was pleasant - for a bit, but what really crossed the line for Vegeta was that his woman was wearing something he'd never seen before. A jewel-encrested broach was pinned to her blouse, red hues glistening when the light hit it. The saiyan was certain he'd never seen such a thing on his woman before. He was _sure_ she hadn't been wearing it that morning when she'd run out of the house. His stomach turning uneasily, Vegeta made sure to choose his words wisely. "Tell me, woman, what is that on your shirt?"

"Oh," Bulma laughed, placing her coat on a hanger as she spoke. "One of the interns at work gave this to me today. It was pretty sweet – I've never been given a gift by an intern before!" She closed the closet door after hanging her garment, turning to send another smile to the saiyan.

There was no doubt in his mind over _which_ intern it was to give her such an item, and Vegeta could no longer contain himself. Was _this_ why she'd been acting so _bubbly_ this afternoon? Had that _beta male's_ gift really made that much of an effect on her? "What do you think you're doing with that?!" He snapped. Nothing could have prepared him for the intense rage that was suddenly building inside. He walked across the room to stand directly in front of his woman, getting a closer look at the broach on her shirt.

Bulma's eyes widened, her expression dropping. For a moment she looked hurt, but her features quickly soured into a defensive squint. "What - How dare you?! Don't speak to me like that! What - What's _with_ you?!"

"It was that blonde beta, wasn't it?! I've already made it known how I feel about _that man_ , and yet you continue to accept gestures from him!"

It was clear to Bulma that Vegeta felt his behavior was justified. And while his internal pique had been building ever since her first day back at work, it had gone unknown to her. She'd noticed his increasingly tense mood for the last couple of weeks, but _this_ behavior seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere. He was nearly yelling at her! And as shocked as she was, she was also offended by the implications being made. "Really, Vegeta! He's just some kid who's trying to be nice! Stop trying to make it into something that it isn't!"

"I'm only calling things out the way I see them!" The saiyan spat, crossing his arms. She wasn't stupid - a bit air-headed and impulsive at times, sure - but she certainly was not _stupid._ There were no doubts about how high her intelligence was in comparison to the other Earth inhabitants, or other living creatures in general for that matter. So why was she so quick to turn a blind eye in this situation? Could she _really_ be as naïve as she was portraying!? "You're going to return that item to the beta male first thing tomorrow morning before he has the chance to get any improper ideas, _understand_?!"

"But – I already told you that I've never received something like this from an intern before... This meant a lot to me..." Her voice trembling, Bulma was feeling oddly emotional. She was mad, but there was a strange pain building inside by being spoken to in this way by _him_. It'd been so long since he'd addressed her in this way, and she wasn't feeling well about it. And as she felt hostile tears threatening to well in her eyes, she wondered why she even cared so much. There was an era when this had been the _only_ way he seemed to speak to her, but it'd been such a long time since those days. She thought things had changed in a good way between the two. In fact, she'd grown comfortable with the new chemistry they'd been developing.

But, as Vegeta maintained his stern glare despite Bulma's latest attempt to calm him mood, her spirit fell even more. That broach had meant a lot to her – as a woman who had always been a bit of an abstract thinker, unable to relate well to the average person and outcast because of her family's status, this had been touching. Even the other interns at work steered clear of her path when she made her way down the hallways, whispering nervously when they thought she couldn't hear, and quick to end conversations when she entered the room. There was always a tense air of separation between Bulma and other individuals she encountered – as soon as someone learned her family name they would suddenly act _too_ polite, too proper, too _unnatural._ While there was a pride that could be taken in having this type of power simply because of her last name, Bulma sometime wished that socialization came more easily. And yet Tadashi was different. While he was an awkward guy who choked on his own tongue quite often, the gift he'd presented her with was symbolic. It meant a lot that someone had thought to do such a thing for her. A work colleague was _finally_ unafraid of her. It was unrequested, unexpected, and it meant that Tadashi didn’t seemed to think of as someone that he should fear. Aside from her parents, the only other people to ever treat her this way had been her Z-Fighter friends and Vegeta... Tadashi was one of the first _normal_ humans to interact with her like this after learning of her family background… And Vegeta just didn't get it. He didn't care, even after she explained that the gift had meant so much to her.

Perhaps it was foolish of her to trust that Vegeta had grown as a man, after all... Perhaps things hadn't changed... Perhaps Vegeta was _always_ going to be the same hot-headed jerk, who only thought of himself and didn't really have empathy for those around him... With this thought Bulma was growing more upset. There was a hurt that still welled within, but a bitter moundof anger was now churning in her stomach as well. She was not only hurt by his behavior, but she felt deceived... perhaps even _betrayed_. "You have _no_ right to ever try and tell me what to do, so get over it!" Was it Vegeta who had betrayed her, or had it been her own mind for allowing her to believe that things were getting better between them?

"You are the woman with whom _I_ have chosen to mate, so I do have a _right_!" Vegeta shot back.

"No you _don't!_ We aren't a couple - we aren't even _together!_ And even if we _were,_ you still wouldn't have any say in my actions! I make my own damned decisions!" Bulma was breathing heavily as her voice rose. "Get used to it!"

 _Damn it all,_ the saiyan bit the inside of his cheek. It didn't matter how long it'd been since he'd broken free from the clutches of Frieza, Vegeta never seemed to shake the impulse instilled within that told him to punish anyone who spoke to him in such a way. He was a _saiyan prince_ , after all. Anyone who disrespected this status was entitled to the worst methods of torture! Yet _Bulma_ was different - she wasn't ever going to be subjected to any type of ramification. Time and time again, when she yelled at him in such a way, his pride urged him to retaliate. Yet he wouldn't. He wasn't going to, not when it came to _her._ It was a trial to his patience and his ego, but she was an exception that would never face any time of repercussion for her tone.

"Look.” He said, taking in a deep breath. “I have told you before that if you don't want me around that is fine, but I have a duty to protect you until the boy is grown and capable of it himself."

"I don't _need_ any protection!" The Bluehead balled her hands into fists. "I'm Bulma fucking Briefs, and I can take care of _myself_!"

"Just return that jewel tomorrow, alright." Vegeta had managed to calm himself down a bit, but her defensiveness frustrated him still. Why did she _care_ so much about keeping the item that the _beta male_ had given her?

"I'll remind _you,_ Vegeta, that you will _never_ have any say on _who_ I interact with, _who_ I receive gifts from, and _what_ I choose to wear on my body." The Bluehead held her hands tightly to her hips as she spoke, leaning closer to him for emphasis. "If you tell me to do something, I'm going do the opposite just to prove that I _can_. You have _no power_ over me. Perhaps if you could learn to stop thinking of _yourself_ every minute of the day, you'd realize that!"

"Stupid woman! I've already expressed my vow to keep you safe! Doesn't that mean I'm _not_ thinking of myself!?" A vein was beginning to pulse in Vegeta's forehead now, and he stepped away to add distance between the two. He needed to do something else – he needed to blow off steam and calm his mood before he _really_ said something he'd regret.

Seeing his reaction made Bulma feel smug now. He'd hurt her deeply, and she was glad that she was winning this fight in return. "Your words mean nothing, and I've told you that already." She hissed. "I'm keeping this broach, and you can get over it, or you can leave."

"Do what you want then, see if I care!" Vegeta scoffed and stepped aside. "I've warned you that the beta male has improper intentions. I hope you remember my words when you learn this the hard way."

"I _won't_ be learning anything like that, because he's just a kid, Vegeta!" Bulma tossed her hair back and marched off. She'd only been home for ten minutes, and she was already fuming. She was tired, she was hungry, and she wanted to find her baby and say hello. She'd left Vegeta standing in the entryway as she stormed off, disappointed tears threatening her eyes from how harsh he'd been...

 

 


	15. Construction

" _...We aren't a couple - we aren't even together!..."_

_"...If you tell me to do something, I'm going do the opposite just to prove that I can..."_

" _...Perhaps if you could learn to stop thinking of yourself every minute of the day, you'd realize that!..."_

What Bulma had said during her and Vegeta's fight stung his ears like an unpleasant wasp. And days after they were spoken, long after her voice stopped replaying in his head, the words still left the saiyan stuck in a residual darkened cloud that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He was so vexed by this dent that Bulma had put in his ego, and he had absolutely no desire to be the first person to follow up with her after such a fight.

Having kept his tongue in his mouth up until their dispute, Vegeta had completely blindsided Bulma with his hostility. For all she knew his attitude had manifested from thin air, unaware that his disdain for Tadashi had been building for weeks leading up to the incident. She didn't care to approach Vegeta about the subject; as far as she was concerned he owed her a deep apology for _overreacting_ the way he did. And so, with this outlook between them both, neither of the two spoke to one another or attempted to clarify their side of things. Both waiting for the other to make the first move to establish common ground, the fight hung over the Briefs household like an extremely large elephant in an abnormally small room.

To Vegeta it came as no surprise that Bulma was behaving in such a stubborn manner, yet the words she'd spoken came as too hard of a blow for him to simply shrug off. He'd been attempting for months to work his way back into her approval, swallowing his tongue on more than one occasion and forcing himself to handle conflicts in a way he'd never attempted to before. He'd summoned more patience than he'd been aware he even had in him, choosing to use his tongue and his brain to negotiate his case, rather than his fists. He'd tolerated Mrs. Briefs, biting his cheek when she pulled him in for a hug instead of pushing her away... He had even shifted the way he approached his training, being careful to not allow it to consume his entire world the way it did before his encounter with the Androids. After Vegeta and Bulma's nightly encounter in which they both became _reacquainted_ with one another, he'd been elated. _Finally_ , after countless nights of sexual tension and countless days of planning his approaches carefully, _finally it was all paying off._

_Finally - it had **finally** felt as if he was getting somewhere!_

Yet now, with how much time she'd been spending away, and her disregard to Vegeta's obvious disapproval, any optimistic outlook had completely drained from his mind. How _dare_ she listen to all of the attempts Vegeta had made to redeem himself, receive all of the gestures that the saiyan had offered, stand witness to all of the adjustments he'd forced himself through, and still behave in such a callous way? The saiyan prince was at his wit's end, tired of struggling to make things work. He had grown more than fed up with constantly choosing to put aside his ego in effort to maintain civility. He was a _saiyan prince,_ and he was _not_ going to continue to allow his actions to be mocked and deflected.

 _‘Well,’_ Vegeta found himself thinking. ‘ _If she wants to stick her foot in her own mouth, then let her.’_

It was with this mentality that the saiyan marched downstairs into Dr. Brief's lab after dinner one evening, approaching the middle-aged professor as he tweaked away at an experimental remote. The scientist hardly had time to even look up from his project before Vegeta spoke, his words cutting through any type of formalities that might have otherwise been exchanged.

"Explain how one goes about obtaining a place to live on this _disgusting_ planet." The saiyan’s mood was in a chronically sour state by this point, and he also didn't appreciate the vulnerability that came with asking another person for advice. Especially not when it was somebody who was so closely related to the woman who'd caused his ire. Yet, despite how infuriated his ego was, Dr. Briefs served as useful to Vegeta. Sure, the saiyan was a strong-headed and independent man, but he was known to overlook that if it served to his advantage. "Well?"

"Hmm," Dr. Briefs set his project aside. "A place to live, you say?" He clasped his hands together and leaned back in his chair, placing a knowing look upon Vegeta. Slowly the professor's mustache began to spread into a sly grin. "I see. Well, my boy, I have to say. Bulma didn't mention anything to me about plans to move out!"

Vegeta growled, turning his head as if he were avoiding being slapped in the face. "What does _that woman_ have to do with my intent to have my _own_ place? What I desire is for myself, and myself only."

"Oh?" The professor's smile dropped. He wasn't one to press for details, nor did he typically care to. He was a systematic man, filled with pride to have an answer to nearly anything. If Vegeta was coming to him for advice, he was going to certainly receive it. "Well," Dr. Briefs muttered, running a finger through his facial hair. "It just so happens that I still keep in touch with some of the men who built _this_ house..."

"You do?" Vegeta smirked. It was then that he pulled back a vacant chair, taking a seat across from Dr. Briefs. " _Now_ we're getting somewhere. Now listen, I'm only going to tell you my requirements once. I expect you to listen. I want construction to be finalized _immediately_..."

Bulma had never been to a baby shower before. She hadn't even had one for her _own_ baby, so why did she think she would be capable of planning such an event for somebody else? Krillin, who originally reacted with confusion and shock, had reluctantly agreed to assist in helping her plan the party, but so far things had been a disaster. Bulma had this talent – a gift of gab that could guilt trip _anyone_ into doing her bidding, even if what she wanted didn't make any sense at all.

It was tradition to include all of the expectant mother's friends in the planning of the baby shower, wasn't it? And as far as Bulma was concerned, Chi-chi didn't really have any friends... which was why she thought to include Goku's buddies instead. The problem with this plan, though, was that aside from Bulma herself, all of Goku's friends had been men. And if _she_ was having trouble constructing ideas on how to throw this party, how could she have expected these _men_ to be of any help!

Krillin and Bulma were sitting in a tea shop, staring blankly at a list of scribbled ideas. Finally, after the two had sat in silence for a considerable amount of time, the bald man decided to clear his throat. "Why can't we just scrap this whole project and order her a pizza instead?" He preemptively held his hands up, as if shielding himself from a fist. As if he _knew_ his suggestion was foolish and he _expected_ Bulma to attack him in response.

No violent reaction came from the Bluehead though, as she sighed and ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair. "We just can't do that!" She groaned, allowing her body to fall over her notebook as she let out a muffled sigh. "We need to show support! Chi-Chi needs us right now!"

"I just don't think Chi-Chi will care too much either way," Krillin explained nervously, scratching his shiny head as he tried to think of something appropriate to say. He _knew_ this was a bad idea when Bulma initially proposed it to him over the phone. He'd even told her that he didn't think it would go smoothly, but she'd pulled the whole " _Goku's dead and Chi-Chi needs us”_ card, and he'd taken the bait. Now, after weeks of struggling to come to an agreement, the poor Z-Fighter was just desperate to find a way out.

Everything had been a struggle so far – trying to set a date, trying to determine what food to prepare and how much, trying to decide what exactly Chi-Chi would want to receive as gifts, what would be unnecessary... Even planning décor was proving to be a strain. What activities would take place to set this party aside fro any other? Overwhelmed with details and frustrated that she'd dragged Krillin into this mess along with her, Bulma looked up from her notebook and gave her friend a sympathetic smile. "This is pointless, isn't it?"

The short man, who had noticed on several occasions how oddly matured Bulma seemed to be since the defeat of Cell, wasn't used to her acting in such a way towards him. She'd always insisted of being the know-it-all behind _every_ scheme. And when she _didn't_ know something, she had a way of pretending she did... It just wasn't _like_ her to admit such a thing! Not when it had been _her_ idea in the first place! "No, _no!_ " Krillin waved his hands, thinking ‘ _yes – yes it is!’_ "It-it's a nice idea! We should just hire a planner to sort everything out for us, _don't you think_?"

"If a planner can organize this so easily, then _I should be able to, too_!" Bulma huffed, standing from the table she'd been sitting at and scooping the notebook into her arms. "I just need to re-access the situation! That's _all_!"

 _This,_ Krillin smiled with relief. Now, _this_ was the Bulma he'd come to know so well. It was just like her to be stubborn about something once she made her mind up on it, and the Z-Fighter couldn't help but to feel empathetic as he watched her gather up her belongings. ‘ _If only I knew another girl,’_ He thought desperately, wishing he could just remove himself from the situation for once and for all. Suddenly, it clicked.

" _Eighteen."_

Bulma paused in her actions, looking up from the table with her mouth dropped open. "Eighteen?" She echoed, unsure on how to react. Krillin gulped, nodding hesitantly as a drop of sweat formed at his temple. His attraction to the blonde was no secret, especially after he'd wished her into being a human. But he'd kept his relationship fairly private up until this point. This was the first time he'd admitted to anyone that he was even on good terms with her.

"You think... You think she'd be any help?" Bulma asked slowly, choosing her words wisely. She was unsure of what to think of the ex-android, not having paid her much thought since she'd become a human. It was no surprise that Krillin had established a relationship with her, and yet it hadn't occurred that such a thing would evolve so quickly.

"Well, Eighteen is a girl - I'll bet Eighteen will have some ideas!" Krillin attempted, thinking, ‘ _I hope she doesn't kill me for this...’_

Bulma eyed the man before her as she considered his words. "Eighteen _used_ to be a machine..." She reminded, her face reflecting a blank expression.

"Well, I'm just saying... And well, Eighteen _might-"_

"That's fine! Krillin, really, that's fine." A hesitant smile was forming at the Bluehead's lips. There was not a single fiber in her being that made Bulma believe that Eighteen would be any more capable of planning a baby shower than she was. "If you don't think she'd mind, she's free to suggest some ideas... And I'm sure everyone would love to see her at the party... But I'll take care of everything myself. Really, _it's fine_."

Krillin gulped, taking this moment to grab his own belongings. It was now or never for him to make his escape, and he gave a quick nod to the Bluehead before making a dash for the door. Bulma watched as he went, shaking her head. "Imagine what Eighteen would do to him if I had actually taken his offer seriously..."

.

Bulma was making her way back home, her notebooks laying in the seat beside her as she flew. It had been exactly one week since the blowout between her and Vegeta, and _still_ neither had spoken to the other. The Bluehead kept herself busy at work during the day, and busy with Trunks during the evening. It wasn't hard for time to quickly fly by, and though it bothered her to think about how harsh Vegeta has been, it was easy to distract herself when there was so much going on in her world.

Vegeta hadn't bothered to speak to her in the slightest. There were times when Bulma encountered him, either in a hallway or even at dinner, but the saiyan would stare down at his food as if it had insulted him, taking quiet bites and glaring at his plate. His demeanor had grown distant and cold, much like how he'd been when she'd first met him. And while it bothered the Bluehead to see him act in such a way, she never once realized that his current resentment had stemmed from her. She simply thought he was _finally_ showing his true colors, once again, and _whatever_ it had been to set him off was unbeknownst to her.

The Bluehead descended upon the Briefs household, and she took note of a large structure on her street as she did so. This building - it had appeared suddenly one day. She'd come home from work to see the skeleton of what looked to be a future house. It was on the property adjacent to her own, one that had previously been merely a field of trees and grass. Evidently she was going to have a new neighbor, and whoever was moving in _sure_ seemed to be in a hurry. It had only taken one day of her being away for the trees to be plowed and for foundation to be laid out. And each day that she'd come home since then she'd noticed more and more progress. It was coming along quickly and smoothly. And what Bulma couldn't help but notice, as this building gained shape and form, was how _oddly_ familiar that new house was starting to look...

Why, as she advanced on the house, she couldn't help but to stare at it suspiciously. It was dark out, and the headlights of her helicopter didn't allow her to see this new building in its entirety, but something about it surely was _familiar..._

 _..._ Regardless, Bulma landed her helicopter. And a moment later, with a click of a button, the 'copter was contained in a capsule, which was then safely dropped into her pocket. She gave one last look into the darkness, carefully considering her new neighbors' home, before turning and making her way into through the door of her own. Inside she almost immediately walked into Vegeta, who had been standing in the entry way.

Bulma, who's mind was still distracted by how suspicious the house next door felt, was taken by complete surprise when she felt herself smashing into a familiar form. His scent filled her nostrils, and she let out a whimper. She placed her hands against his chest to push herself back, jumping in a desperation to add distance between the two. Her back slammed against the door she'd just walked through, and she let out a hiss of irritation.

Vegeta, who had a history of withstanding blasts and explosions, didn't even flinch by the woman's actions. It merely felt like a minor slap when her palms had pressed into his pectoral muscles as she pushed herself away. The saiyan took a look at the Bluehead and he once again remembered the words she'd said to him during their fight. His temper soured, and he crossed his arms. "What are you doing, _Woman_." He growled. He wiped residual sweat from his forehead, having just finished with a workout in the spaceship.

"What am _I_ doing? Have you forgotten _who's_ house you’re in, and who _you're_ speaking to?!" Bulma turned her nose up, immediately forgetting about the adrenaline coursing through her veins after the fright she'd just encountered.

Vegeta shot her a glare in response, gulping back the dryness in his throat. "The sun set in the sky quite some time ago, and you're _just now_ walking in. What are you doing out so late?"

"I had a few things I needed to take care of with someone.” The Bluehead threw her shoulder-length hair behind her, shrugging casually. “What business is that of _yours_ anyway?"

Her words dug into the pit of Vegeta's stomach more than he would have liked to admit. Aside from a few grunts, this was the first time he was addressing her with full sentences since their fight. Curiosity had gotten the better of him when he'd sensed her ki approach the house, and he was now regretting his decision to confront her. "Care to elaborate?" He growled, the image of that _beta male_ materializing in his head. She'd spent enough time with that man while she was at _work!_ If Vegeta learned that she'd stayed out so late in that _man's_ presence as well...

"I _told_ you, I was trying to take care of something!" Bulma's words snapped Vegeta out of his own sour thoughts. "What's with the interrogation as soon as I walk in, anyway?"

 _It was obvious that she was going to be willfully difficult, per usual_. The saiyan turned, looking over his shoulder at the woman before him. He glared into her eyes, thinking in silence as he considered her response. ‘ _No,’_ He thought. ‘ _Not a hint of guilt in those blue orbs. There's no way she was with that beta male after all, I suppose.’_ The saiyan was sure to let out one last growl before turning his back to Bulma completely. "Next time you should consider coming home at a more reasonable hour. I have a feeling the boy was missing you."

 


	16. I Knew It

_It was obvious that she was going to be willfully difficult, per usual_. The saiyan turned, looking over his shoulder at the woman before him. He glared into her eyes, thinking in silence as he considered her response. ' _No,'_ He thought. ' _Not a hint of guilt in those blue orbs. There's no way she was with that beta male after all, I suppose.'_ The saiyan was sure to let out one last growl before turning his back to Bulma completely. "Next time you should consider coming home at a more reasonable hour. I have a feeling the boy was missing you."

Vegeta turned and began to walk away, stepping into the shadows as his body moved from the light of the entry way. Bulma watched as he went, her emotions dropping through her breasts as her heart sank. The way he'd just looked at her, his eyes penetrating her soul as if he were dissecting her being, was enough to shoot shivers down her spine. Those eyes, those venomous almonds had a hint of tenderness in them as they pierced through the room. It was that same look that made Bulma fall for Vegeta years ago.

 _Where did things turn so drastically?_ Everything had been relatively calm between the two recently, and it had even gotten to the point that Bulma had grown comfortable – perhaps _attached_ – to their new dynamic. Why did things suddenly have to transpire in such a way? Now she and Vegeta were hardly on speaking terms – and when they _did_ speak they were at each others' throats. It certainly didn't help matters that Bulma had been so quick to lose her temper just now, yet it came as such a _natural_ resort when her back was against the wall – _literally_!

"Why can't he just say he's sorry?" Bulma sighed, allowing her body to sink towards the floor. The Bluehead would be sitting in silence for quite a few minutes, considering everything that was going on in her life, before she willed herself to stand and head upstairs. As she made her way through the darkness of the house it began to sink in that it _really was_ late – Mr. and Mrs. Briefs had already retreated to the den for their evening routine of watching sitcoms before bed. It was evident with how quiet the house was that Trunks had already been put down to sleep. _He wasn't just scolding, it really was late..._ Bulma couldn't help but consider Vegeta's last words to her. He'd suggested that she needed to be spending more time with Trunks. _Sure_ , he'd used a much harsher vocabulary, but the message was still the same... She really had been spending more and more of her hours out of the house, leaving her baby to the care of Mrs. Briefs. And perhaps that really wasn't fair. Perhaps he was right...

In his room Vegeta was already dressed in his night clothes, which consisted of a pair of loose boxers and an undershirt that Mrs. Briefs had bought for him. His chronically sour mood, which had been plaguing him ever since his and Bulma's dispute, was worsened after the encounter they'd just had downstairs. Growing increasingly frustrated with Bulma's ever-difficult attitude, the saiyan was counting the days until his soon-to-be home would be ready for him to take reside in.

He was sitting on his mattress, just moments away from shutting off the light on his beside table, when he heard a faint tapping at his bedroom door. The saiyan let out a silent hiss, knowing fully well who was on the other end. When he'd gone to speak with her downstairs she had treated him as if he were some foul specimen she'd stepped in, and _now_ she was actively pursuing him – not five minutes later? He hadn't even calmed his breathing yet – what could she have possibly wanted to say to him _now_? The saiyan was in no mood to engage in conversation at this point, and for a moment he considered yelling at her to go away. Yet, despite his ire, there was something inside that would not allow him to do such a thing. _Not to her..._ So, instead, Vegeta folded his arms over his chest and took in a deep breath, calling out only one word to the woman who was waiting on the other end of the bedroom door. "Enter."

The door creaked open slowly, two blue eyes peering into the room. An act of hesitation, as if she were still trying to decide on what she wanted to do, she poked her head in and glanced around before carefully proceeding. A few seconds later Bulma was standing before him, quietly shutting the door behind her before stepping out from the doorway. The saiyan greeted her with his typical scowl. He didn't speak a word as he glared, waiting impatiently for her to explain why she was bothering him as he was going to bed, and especially after behaving in such a way just moments earlier.

Bulma didn't oblige. Instead she stood awkwardly in front of him, her hands clasped together in front of her waist as if she were unsure of how to handle herself. Her eyelids heavy as she silently studied the footing of Vegeta's bed. She _had_ acted rudely, and while she could admit that, it was hard to be the first person to make amends when _he_ had been so harsh to her in the first place. It'd been a week, and he still hadn't even attempted to extend an olive branch after exploding at her about her broach, had he?

Silence rang through the room, as Bulma stood in thought, and Vegeta found himself growing even more irritated. _Why was she there_? After rejecting any inquiry he made of her, speaking so disrespectfully to him, and all-but casting him away, she was standing in his room and looking like a lost puppy. All the saiyan could think of was the sleep he was losing with each passing moment, and of how much of his time Bulma was quickly wasting.

Finally, when he could not stand waiting for an explanation any longer, the saiyan's voice broke. " **Well?** "

Bulma's eyes rose from the floor to Vegeta's face, her brows raising from the harsh in his tone. She cleared her throat and straightened her posture, nodding at him before speaking. "I just came in to check on you..." Her voice soft, the Bluehead hadn't been too entirely sure of what she would actually say.

Considering how she had been acting as of late, her words came off as a condescending slap in the face to the vexed saiyan. " _Check on me?_ " His eyebrows furrowed, his voice nearly cracking. "What type of _game_ are you playing, woman?!"

Bulma shrugged, screwing her mouth to the side and raising her eyebrows. If Vegeta hadn't been so upset with her, he would have found this act cute. "I just wanted to see how you are." Blue eyes blinking, pausing, listening.

Even more patronization. Vegeta groaned under his breath. _What_? After talking down to him so many times, she'd come to disturb him and see if he was _okay_? As if he couldn't take care of himself? As if he were an infant? What _more_ was she going to do to his pride?

"I wanted to say that you were right... I should have gotten home earlier than I did." Bulma muttered. Her words didn't do much to calm the saiyan, his anger already having risen to the point of no return. _Of course he was right!_ He was almost _always_ right! Her confession was nothing more than stating an obvious fact, and it certainly didn't make up for the way she'd conducted herself.

"And, well, I just..." She sighed, as if searching for the right words. "I just wish you'd stop all of this already. Just, come on. Enough with being hostile."

The temples of his head twitched, his eyes widening. "Did I hear you correctly, or have my ears grown so weak from this inferior planet's atmosphere that they now malfunction?" He stood now, fighting with the urge inside to yell out. "You want _me_ to cease with _my_ hostility?"

"Yes, Vegeta, I want _you_ to stop! This _whole_ thing started because of a _small_ gift that someone gave me! It's was not a big deal! So I wish you would just get over it and stop with the attitude!"

The saiyan grunted, his biceps tightening as he clenched his hand into a fist. "And here I was, nearly believing that you came in here to make amends for your ways. Instead you want _me_ to correct _my_ behavior?" He was gritting his teeth, unsure if he could handle her denting his ego any further. "Woman, you'll find better use of your time in leaving me alone."

"You're the one who exploded at me over something so small!" Bulma placed her hands on her hips. "And you want _me_ to leave _you_ alone!? In case you've forgotten, this is _my_ house! You're standing in _my_ guest bedroom! How dare you tell me to leave!"

"Right," Vegeta muttered, "Okay then." He thought back on his internal calendar, once again counting down the days until he would have his own place to reside. It was clear that the woman wanted a fight, an exchange of words that would result in raised voices and even more verbal jabs. A verbal altercation that would wake the rest of the household, disturb the fleas that slept in the soil outside, and result in yet another sleepless night for the saiyan prince himself. There was absolutely no point to it. Vegeta was beside himself with anger, and she seemed to still be in complete ignorance of her own behavior. She wasn't going to admit to any faults - she merely wanted to place every aspect of blame on him. The only thing that would come from having any type of dispute with the woman would just be more wasted time.

It was with this thought that the saiyan opted to resolve the situation himself. So, instead of even replying, he stepped towards her instead. He closed in on the Bluehead, her mouth dropping open as realization dawned on her face. This wasn't going to be the first occasion where he had to use physical means to get her to move. In only a second's time he had lifted Bulma off the ground, his hands gripping her waist as he held her away from his body. Not even attempting to resist, Bulma immediately submitted to her defeat as the saiyan carried her to the bedroom door. And just a moment later he was setting her back down to her feet in the hall, muttering bitterly in her direction as he turned on his heel, briskly walking away.

"Vegeta!" Bulma hissed, tugging at her shirt to smooth it out after such an ordeal. But the saiyan didn't so much as flinch in her direction as he disappeared back into his room, leaving her alone in the darkened hall.

Vegeta refusing to even attempt a conversation with Bulma when she was upset was something that the Bluehead wasn't used to. It had been a long time since the days where _he_ was the one who would turn his back and refuse communication as _Bulma_ attempted to explain herself. For the last couple of months, whenever she would lose her temper and speak her mind, he would take it with stride and continue with his attempts to win her over. At times it had been infuriating, with Bulma desperate to be left alone before she accidentally reignited old feelings for that strong-willed man. And now, here she was, alone in a dark hallway, and she wasn't feeling good.

This was different. She really hadn't foreseen this. This had been a moment where she _really_ wanted Vegeta to respond, to get upset and react – to _fight_ for himself, and for _them_. To tell her why he was acting the way he was, why he'd lashed out at her a week earlier. To apologize for behaving so cruelly and to provide some type of insight into his actions. To give her closure, and perhaps even comfort. This _just_ wasn't what she'd been hoping for, and him giving her the cold shoulder was something she was no longer accustomed to.

He'd acted so distant and un-invested in his room. And even when she tried to push his buttons in order to get _some_ type of rise out of him, he'd still resisted! Bulma thought back to their encounter in the entry-way just after she'd gotten home, and a lump of regret began to form in her throat. At least at that point he was still acknowledging and trying to interact with her – even if he _was_ doing it in a distasteful way. These two encounters had only been separated by minutes, and the only factor that could have contributed to how quickly Vegeta's temper has escalated was the way in which Bulma handled herself the entry-way. She'd snapped at him, she'd been overly harsh. She recognized that, she could even admit it. She'd been too quick to jump on the defense, and she could understand why he would in turn be upset. But his reaction, the demeanor he presented to her just now… She didn't like it.

In fact, it frightened her. Had she really upset him _that_ much?

_What was going on?_

It was the mid-afternoon the next day when Bulma groaned, stretching her arms out behind her head and taking in a deep breath of air. It was Friday, and while she normally spent weekdays working on-site at the Capsule Corp headquarters, she'd opted to stay at home instead. She was too tired after getting to bed so late the night before. And what more, something about Vegeta's words resonated within. If his intention had been to guilt-trip her for going so long without being in Trunks' company, then it worked. She'd spent the majority of her day attempting to balance her job with tending to her son's needs. Mrs. Briefs, in her typical kindness, has lent a hand in preparing meals for Bulma to eat at her desk, as well as trying to help keep Trunks from disturbing his mother _too_ much, but it had still been a difficult task.

"How are those blueprints coming along, Bulma?" Mr. Briefs interrupted his daughter's train of thought, having sneaked up on her while she was distracted with typing into her computer, busy with the task at hand.

"I've been making progress, but it's slow." The Bluehead replied, not even glancing up from her computer screen. "I've been able to work out the coding sequence you asked for. That should control the timing sensors, but it's still going to be a few days before it's de-bugged enough to thoroughly test."

"Great, great." Mr. Briefs said, setting something down on the shelf beside the desk. Bulma looked up with half-interest, glazing over the roll that her father had just placed. "Hey-what's that, Dad?" She didn't recognize the size, nor the color of paper, so she knew it was a project she hadn't yet worked on.

"This? Oh, I just got back from the new property. Had a walk-through with your boy!"

Completely clueless, Bulma pushed herself back from the desk in her chair and crossed her arms. She cocked an eyebrow, sending her dad an incredulous look. Nothing about what he'd just said made any sense. She was used to him speaking in such a manner – Mr. Briefs had a tendency to assume the person he was communicating with knew more than they actually did. Therefore, he wasn't always the best about clarifying information. Bulma knew this, and she was used to it. Yet, just like any person dealing with a parent's unfavorable trait, she found it a tad irritating. "Okay. Let's try this again." She spoke slowly, nodding at her father and fighting back a grin. "Now, _where exactly_ did you just come back from? And what do you mean by ' _my boy_?' You mean _Trunks_? Dad, he's asleep in the other room. I seriously doubt you went anywhere with him!"

"No, no! Where's your head, dear?!" Mr. Briefs shook stifled a chuckle. "I was at _the_ new property!"

"What do you _mean_?!" Bulma returned, her voice rising slightly. She'd already asked him to make himself more clear, and it was as if he were speaking in circles. " _What_ new property?!"

It was then that Mr. Briefs went back to the shelf, retrieving the blueprints he had set down. "You really must have had a long day. You mean to tell me you've forgotten about the house we're building for Vegeta already?"

The desktop was cleared with a swipe of Mr. Briefs' arm, and a moment later his blueprints were being spread across it. Bulma's eyes widened, taking in the parcel with shock. "He's having you design his own home?" Sure enough, inscribed on the paper was the detailed planning of a house to be. She placed a hand over the blueprint, brushing her fingers against the fibers as if to confirm it was real. Her eyes quickly scanned it, not bothering to take in every single aspect. She was looking over the parcel as a whole, her mind still registering the fact that she was indeed looking at the floorplans to a house. And when Bulma came across the section for the creation of a gravity room, that was all of the confirmation she needed. Unable to fathom the information that was being presented to her, Bulma clamped her eyes shut to shield herself from seeing anything else.

"He's... having _you_... design his own _home..._ " She repeated, choking back her shock as she completed her own sentence. Her body was in denial. Somehow, despite her willful indifference to the saiyan – despite her trepidation to rekindling their relationship, she hadn't been expecting him to actually _leave_. It had always been her biggest fear. In the past he'd hurt her so badly with how many times he took off, leaving her with an isolating sense of abandonment that was hard to come to terms with. This hurt was forever stuck in the back of her mind, and she found herself having difficulty moving past it. It was an anxiety that haunted her, yet ever since Cell's defeat Vegeta had been sticking around. He'd ignored her gripes and her stubbornness, and he'd continued to reside in the Briefs household, despite it all. Slowly, but surely, Bulma had grown used to his presence. She'd begun to even expect the idea of him staying, like a rock that would obediently withstand any hardship. Her fears had slowly started to ease, and they might have even completely diminished by that point if it hadn't been for his recent behavior. But the fact was that she really _had_ been getting over her worries. She _had_ been growing to accept Vegeta's constant presence, and even appreciate the company of him staying at her house. She had slowly been learning to trust that he would be there for a _very_ long time…

And _now_?

Now she'd come to find that he was planning to leave after all, and he hadn't even told her. She had to find out through someone else, and that made the blow feel even worse.

"Did you think Vegeta would go to somebody else for help with matters like these? Of course I'm assisting him!" Dr. Briefs replied, completely oblivious that he was dropping such a bomb on his daughter. He'd assumed that she'd known of his plans to move out. Surely, when it came to something as big of a deal as _moving out_ , Bulma would have been in on it! Especially when it was with the man who fathered her own child! "Why would I not help him? The boy is family!"

"I see…" Bulma gulped, nodding slowly as her mind raced to understand what she was being told. "Right. Of course."

..

It seemed as if hours passed before she was able to crawl upstairs and find the privacy of her bedroom, her mood having boiled to the point that her hands were shaking. She was angry, she was hurt, and she was frightened. She just needed a moment to gather herself – that was _all_ she needed, a single moment! She dropped her body onto her bed, her mind a blur as she reached for something - anything. Her fingers coming into contact with a pillow, her knuckles trembling as she gripped. She held it to her face as she let out a primal sound of release. Her heart rate was increasing as she exhaled, her emotions running their course. A deep breath, and she continued to take her feelings out on the cushion before her. Downstairs Mrs. Briefs was running a hot tap over some dirty dishes. She could hear muffled screams coming from upstairs, yet she was used to hearing such things in a house filled with such strong individuals _and_ a growing baby. Her daughter didn't sound distraught, rather she sounded frustrated or enraged – a typical reaction Bulma had to an assortment of things. It _could_ have been something serious... But then again, it could have been something as minor as tripping over a book she'd left in the floor! So Mrs. Briefs, scrubbing at a pan with a scouring pad, shrugged and began to hum out loud to drown out the sound.

Bulma let out one last muffled yell into the pillow before tossing it aside. She sighed, her cheeks stained red with tears as she looked up at the ceiling above. Her chest heaving, she wiped at her eyes and shook her head. How could he do this? _How could he do this to her and Trunks?_ She'd always reluctantly expected Vegeta to leave. It was something he had a history of doing. He'd maintained a steady pattern of disappearing – no - _abandoning_ Bulma. He'd done it to her too many times throughout the early stages of their relationship. He would just _leave suddenly_ , with hardly any warning or explanation, and it would be weeks – even _months_ before she would hear from him again. This constant disappearing act of his had left a scar in Bulma's character, and it left her in a subtle state or worry that it would happen once again. Now that fear was becoming a reality, and little did she realize how big of a role she'd played in contributing to the saiyan's decision.

Sure, she hadn't been the most easy of people to get along with. And she _had_ been feeling guilty about the way she'd acted towards him the night before. But it was obvious that his plans had begun long ago, and there was no relation between him leaving and their most recent fight. She'd told him many times, from the moment that Future Trunks disappeared in his time machine, that she had no desire to get back together with Vegeta. She'd made herself clear, she'd tried to stand her ground. And _Vegeta_ was the one who remained relentless, pursuing her attention with any chance he got. She told him repeatedly that she didn't want him back, and yet he'd gotten to her. He'd imposed himself on her _just_ enough that her emotions were _finally_ starting to turn around.

And, as soon as she came to _enjoy_ his company, he had grown cold. He'd exploded at her for receiving a minor gift from an apprentice, he'd distanced himself from her, he'd turned away. Had it all just been a game to him after all? A challenge that he wanted to see if he could achieve – attempting to sway Bulma once she'd grown fed up with his bullshit? Only to lose interest once he realized that he was succeeding in winning her over? How long had he been planning to move out for? How long was the construction and designing of the home underway? What about Trunks – the time Vegeta had been spending with him? Had he ever even cared about his son, or had that just been part of the act?

All she could think as she turned onto her side was ‘ _I knew it. This is why I couldn't get involved with him again, and I still fell for it. I **knew** he was going to leave.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had wanted to post one more chapter for the night, but I'm going to have to stop here. The next one is about 5,000 words! Bear with me, I promise you'll be glad! The goal is to post another 3 chapters tomorrow, if I can. We'll get caught up in no time!


	17. Cobalt Blue

Only a few hours had passed, and Bulma had spent that time wallowing in her own thoughts. She'd resolved to seek comfort through Trunks, who sucked at his fist deviously as his mother bounced him on her lap. So many questions continued to form in her mind, along with so many different _what-if scenarios._ In the time she spent composing herself, she'd managed to, for the most part, fend off her negative assumptions. Her insecurities throbbed, yelling at her that Vegeta had purposely led her on. Yet the rational, scientific side to Bulma’s brain was gently trying to remind her that these assumptions were simply _hypotheses,_ and she needed to use deductive means – such as gathering credible evidence - in order to reach the absolute truth. Certain situations constituted running several experiments in order to measure the outcomes. In this case, however, Bulma knew that a conversation was all she needed to make her own conclusion.

Lately, when it came to Vegeta, she'd always let the insecure and impulsive side of her mind win. Acting and saying as she pleased, whether it was in her favor or not, was just something that he really brought out in her. He’d always had a talent for it. Something about him just seemed to magnify any impulse she had, her emotional reactions to his behavior overwhelming and blinding her senses. She'd always been a bit rash, but when it came to any other aspect of her life she tended to think things through a little more clearly before acting. But it'd always been another story with Vegeta...

...As Bulma reflected on this, now helping Trunks to scoot about the room in his little red car, she realized that she needed to really let her scientific side take control. It was too exhausting – it just consumed too much of her energy to constantly feel angry, defensive, afraid, and hurt. And she was tired of it.

 _The truth was,_ she thought, _she really had been acting crazy._

There was no question about it. This was something that Bulma had been considering ever since the moment Vegeta left her alone in the hall. His behavior had been so uncharacteristic that it'd slapped her in the face, really forcing her to take a look at herself and reflect. And despite what Vegeta did to her in the past – despite how scarred she felt from his latest blowup over Tadashi's gift and his lack of explanation, she really hadn't acted any better with her own behavior.

 _Perhaps Vegeta had been planning to leave all along_ , as the anxieties in her soul warned. _But perhaps... Perhaps there really was more depth behind it..._

Listening to her baby giggle as he pretended to steer his toy car, the Bluehead smiled down at her son. "You really are good for relieving stress, aren't you sweetie?" She sighed, feeling relaxed after coming to her conclusion. She was still upset, and she was still uneasy. But the rational side of her heart had finally won, had finally convinced her that she needed to set aside her hurt feelings and try to see his point of view. As she'd used to do in the past. She was going to approach Vegeta and confront him – but she was going to do it in a _calm manner._ And she would _listen._

And that was exactly what Bulma did that night, after she'd rocked her baby to sleep and placed him snugly in his crib. She walked from her son's room and peeked out into the hall, eying the door frame that marked Vegeta's room. Inside she could see that a light was on, and she sighed with slight relief. He hadn't been around all day. Not once had she crossed his path, and he hadn't even joined the family for dinner. This she recognized as typical behavior he projected when he was upset. Combining this with his other recent traits – hostile, distant, harsh, cold, it was clear that he was attempting to come to terms with something in his own mind. It was _so clear,_ and yet she'd been so blind to see it up until that point. He'd acted this way many times in the past, and it was usually followed by him announcing he was going on a trip. Experience should have led her to understand that he was struggling with an internal dialogue. This behavior of his certainly wasn't new – it had been going on for weeks, and for weeks she'd managed to overlook it because she'd been to caught up in her own wounded emotions.

This latest realization felt like a sting to her tongue, too swollen to swallow. By this point of the night her temper had subsided into a numb state of curiosity, and she proceeded to make her way through the darkness of the hall. She needed to address Vegeta in the same way that she addressed everyone else in her life. To give him the chance she had denied him ever since they'd broken up so many months ago. She took a deep breath, feeling _deja' vu_ that she was once again placing her fingertips on the wooden door frame. She was ready to have the conversation that her subconscious had been urging her to do – ever since that first morning when Trunks had thrown oatmeal at them...

.

Blueprints spread out over his bed, Vegeta was once again studying the plans he'd conducted with Dr. Briefs during their initial meeting about the house. Earlier in the day they'd done a walk-through of the building together, and he now considered the floor-plan with anticipation. Other than this meeting, he'd spent the majority of his day locked in his ship, the gravity machine cranked up. Hours passed as he took his mental anguish out on the training bots that Bulma had built for him long ago. His muscles aching from pushing himself to their peak during the workout, he cracked his knuckles into his palm as he continued to look over the prints on his bed.

When he heard a knock at the door he let out an audible groan, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. This was the second night in a row that the Bluehead was knocking on his door _,_ and he couldn't help but to replay her behavior from the previous day in his head. Anticipating another futile exchange of words, the saiyan reluctantly marched to the door and turned the knob.

Creaking the hinges open and looking out, the saiyan instantly saw blue as she waited on the other side of the frame. Just as he'd expected. He didn't speak a word, watching Bulma with silence, and then she suddenly spoke. "Can I come in?" Her voice soft and cautious.

With a grunt the saiyan stepped aside, allowing her entry before quickly shutting the door behind her. With a turn he was looking back at Bulma, crossing his arms expectantly. She had cupped her hands together and was looking at Vegeta hesitantly. _Much like the way she'd looked at him the night before._ "Well, I've finally heard the news..." She said, holding her head up high. She was staring at his right shoulder in effort to prevent eye contact.

"Regarding?" Vegeta crossed his arms. It was a pleasant surprise that Bulma hadn't started things off on the offense, but that didn't necessarily mean much. Internally he was counting down the minutes, wondering how long it would be until she started yelling.

"When did you decide to have my father build you a house?" Her voice still soft, her face still avoiding eye contact.

"Not long ago." Still bitter, the saiyan was feeling inclined to answer her questions. But he wasn't going to elaborate. Not any more than necessary, at least.

"I'd like to know exactly _when_." Bulma said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "When did you decide that this was what you wanted?"

"Eight days ago."

How incredibly specific, Vegeta's response left Bulma instantly calculating the days in her mind. _Eight days ago..._ Why, if Vegeta was telling the truth, then that was the exact day after their argument over the broach! "Then..." She breathed, feeling slightly better, yet more confused at the same time. If he'd only decided to move out after their huge fight, which hurt – yet she could understand - then what had caused his hostile demeanor leading up to it? "Then... why..."

"Your latest ordeal with the _beta male_ has been unacceptable." Vegeta interrupted, having decided to save himself some time by not waiting for her questions. "I do not desire to continue idly standing by as you behave _exactly_ as you please, besmirching my dignity and speaking to me as if I am some _common brute scum_."

Bulma looked up to his eyes then, her mouth falling open as once again she felt slapped in the face by her own recognition. Having already acknowledged to herself that she'd been overtly cross with him, she was hardly surprised by what he'd said. Yet it was still hard to hear that her own words had made such a direct impression on him. "I... I was only trying to defend myself when you started yelling at me about the gift." She said, her cheeks flushing. "I didn't mean for you to leave..."

"That night you specifically told me that if I don't accept the _relations_ between you and that male, then I _was_ to leave," Vegeta scoffed, furrowing his eyebrows. "There have been countless times in recent weeks that you've told me that I have no business with you and might as well just leave you alone. The phrase seems to slip from your tongue as naturally as you find the desire to breathe." His tone was twisting as he spoke, and it was obvious that he was ripping bandages off of internal injuries that had not yet healed. "Why should I not seek independence elsewhere? After all... isn't this _what you want..._ "

"I didn't mean it..." Bulma's heart was dropping. She still had so many questions and opinions inside, regarding his attitude leading _up_ to their fight over Tadashi. Regarding what would happen after he left. Yet, as he presented the evidence of what had influenced him to make his decision, these thoughts were put aside and she was immediately filled with gut-wrenching guilt. It was so easy to feel remorse when she'd already decided to set her own pride aside. "Look, I really didn't mean what I said. I was out of line. You're right..."

"Of course I am right!" Vegeta hissed. "And if you didn't mean it, then perhaps you shouldn't say such things with every opportunity you see fit?" He turned and walked to his bed, glancing down at the floor-plans that were still spread over his mattress. "I've mentioned before that you seem to find any excuse to get hostile with me. Why should I continue to subject myself to such treatment? I, a _prince_ , being treated as some type of _vermin._ " The words rolled off his tongue as if it tasted bad just to say, and his eyebrows furrowed even more as he looked up from his bed to face Bulma once again.

"You're right." She replied. She shook her head, admitting defeat. The things Vegeta was saying hit a sensitive spot for her. She could empathize with where he was coming from – after all, _she_ wouldn't like if the tables were turned. And, at one point, the tables really _had_ been turned – with Vegeta being the hurtful one who deflected every attempt Bulma made to work with him. It was ironic, how she metaphorically went from being the sheep to the beast. Her desperation to not be hurt again had resulted in her acting completely beside herself. "You don't deserve it. I wouldn't stand for it, myself, and neither should you." She took a step forward, as if to emphasize her words. "I'm sorry, Vegeta. I don't think of you as a brute. I don't think of you as a vermin, either."

" _Of course_ I know you don't, woman!" Vegeta snapped, feeling blindsided by her effortless admission. He took a deep breath, watching her face and the genuine expression on it. This was the breakthrough he'd been waiting for, the rare moment that she was accepting criticism without having some type of defensive retort to shift the blame. It was then that he decided to tell her of his own thoughts – a realization of his own that he'd come to during the last few days... "The problem is that you've accumulated resentment towards me." He grunted, looking back down at his bed. "It's evident. I've seen enough sides of you to know when walls are being built. Hell, I’ve seen it enough in _myself_."

She considered his words, taking in what he said. Bulma could feel a single tear threatening her left eye as they sunk in, hitting a spot inside that she didn't even know had been there. "You're right." She replied yet again. It seemed as if it was the only thing she was capable of saying, and it was because it was true. Inside there was a turmoil that suddenly had ceased, as her soul found agreement with the saiyan's observation.

"You're right" She breathed again, an odd sensation of grief welling inside. "Maybe I have some resentful feelings harbored, and _I'm_ _sorry_ if I've been taking it out on you. I apologize." She was fighting to maintain her composure, trying to remain distant enough from the conversation to keep from bursting into tears. She'd cried in front of Vegeta before, but she _always_ hated to. She'd never considered that the mixed feelings she had towards the saiyan – her deep yearnings to make things work, coupled with her fear and wariness of getting close to him once again – could have possibly stemmed from actual _resentfulness_. But as the thought sank in, with every breath Bulma took, she understood it to be true. It was a reality that she didn't want. It was shocking. It was confusing. And it was heartbreaking.

Vegeta saw the expression in her eyes just before she looked away to mask her tears. He'd finally voiced what he'd deducted from her actions, but he hadn't been expecting her to accept it so easily. With how combative she'd been lately, it was surreal that she was taking everything he said with not a gram of anger. She was simply _accepting_ his words! And now… she was _crying?_ The saiyan let out a sigh. He never did enjoy seeing her cry - not _her_. He was still quite angry, but his temper was diminishing with the emotion that came from seeing the tears that streamed down her face.

"I'm _sorry_ , I do have pent up _resentment._ " It was as if she were repeating the phrase to herself in order to be sure that it was real. "Perhaps you don't deserve it. No - I _know_ you don't - but I _just_ can't help it. I _resent_ this situation, I just _do_." She wiped at her eyes and dropped her face, choking back as she attempted to stifle a whimper.

Vegeta stepped away from the bed, making his way to the woman who was now full-blown sobbing in his room. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Woman." He grunted, closing in on her. He stood, just half a meter away, and watched as she attempted to compose herself. "I've tried to make amends with you. But I'll be getting nowhere if you don't even want to let me in."

"I don't know, either." Bulma replied. "I've seen the things you've done, I've heard everything you've had to say. And yet it's still hard for me to let go. There's something inside that won't let me... I just... _can't_... I wish I could, but I just _can't_..."

The prince let out another sigh. He considered her words as she cleared her throat, attempting once again to stop the tears from streaming from her eyes. What she said resonated with him. Her descriptions reminded him of how he'd felt when, during his 3 years of training, he'd struggled with his own emotions that he felt for the Blue-haired beauty standing before him. Since then he'd come to his own resolve, but it was obvious that _she_ was now the one who was grappling with her feelings.

Stepping even closer, Vegeta reached out and placed his rough hands on her shoulders, squeezing them tight. Bulma swallowed and picked her head up, her bloodshot eyes staring into Vegeta's black spheres. "Woman." He grunted, his expression absolutely serious. "It's better if I do leave. You need to come to resolve this with _yourself_ , and I can see this now."

Bulma knew he was right, and she didn't feel it was necessary to argue with him. Instead, she nodded and repeated her words once more, "I'm sorry."

"Right." Vegeta replied, taking his hands away. He allowed his fingers to rub against her head, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. "I can understand your view, but I can no longer shoulder your disrespect."

"As you shouldn't," Bulma whispered, sniffling.

"Just know that, should decide that you can _never_ come around and make amends, I'll still be there. It is the duty of a saiyan male to guard his kin – I've said it before. And I am going to adhere to it. I'm going to _protect_ you."

Bulma's eyes widened. The things she was coming to realize about herself were scaring her, but what Vegeta was saying served as comfort. It didn't seem as if he was holding her actions against her at all. He wasn't allowing her recent behavior to define her character in his mind. To the contrary, it made her feel more understood than ever... The Bluehead nodded, acknowledging his promise. As of right now, it really made the most sense for Vegeta to leave. She didn't want to subject him to her own moods anymore. And he'd already started the process. If he felt that this was best course of action, she would respect it. "When are you moving, then?" She whispered, watching his dark eyes.

"Soon."

"And what about Trunks?"

"The boy? Well, he needs you to not coddle him so much." A smirk forming at his lips, having been unable to resist the jab.

Bulma fought back a grin, giving him a stern look instead.

"There's nothing to ask in regards of the boy. It isn't as if I will never see him again." The saiyan, still smirking, kept his posture straight.

"Right," Bulma replied. By now her eyes had completely dried. And though her cheeks were still swollen from her sobs, she was feeling better after having released the tension that had been building up for so long. "It's the new house that's being built adjacent to this property, isn't it?" She nodded. "Of course you'll be seeing him still. You won't be far at all..."

Few words were left to be exchanged, and it wasn't long after that their meeting ended. With one last apologetic look, Bulma turned and removed herself from the room, wishing Vegeta a good night as she left. The saiyan watched her go, not moving from his spot until the door had clicked shut behind her.

When he was finally alone in his room Vegeta let out a loud groan, turning and pulling the floor-plan from his bed. It was the most irritating thing in the world to watch his woman struggle so hard emotionally, especially since he had once been in her own shoes. And he knew that, when he'd been going through his issues, he'd said and done terrible things to her. Hurtful things that he _knew_ had contributed to her current state. He'd played a part in how conflicted she was now, and he accepted responsibility for it.

" _Fuck!_ "

..

The next few days that went by were relatively uneventful. It was the weekend, and while Bulma didn't have to work, she still felt that there was so much to do. She was still feeling pressure, weight that she had placed on her own shoulders, to finalize the planning of Chi-Chi's baby shower so that she could be celebrated for once and for all. And she was also feeling lethargic from all of the emotions she'd been going through for the past week, having realized what the root of her and Vegeta's problems were. And while Bulma knew that it was unfair to feel such a way, tearing down the walls that she hadn't even been aware she was building was proving to be a difficult task. What an isolating sensation it was to think that, as much as she _did_ care for Vegeta, there was an invisible wedge between them, it was _her_ mind causing that wedge, and she didn't know how to go about fixing it...

"Come on, Trunks!" Bulma called. Her son was taking careful steps towards her. The two were heading home after spending an afternoon at the park, and Bulma was feeling impatient. There were some emails she'd been waiting to receive, and she was eager to get back home and check her inbox. The truth was, Bulma had taken Krillin's advice and she'd sought out a party planner for Chi-Chi's baby shower. She couldn't help but to think of it ever since Krillin had made the suggestion. And while she hated to admit it, she was starting to feel that she had bitten off much more than she could chew. She’d never thrown an event like this – she really did need the help.

On top of this, there was another event that would be coming up shortly, one that would also require a party of its own, and Bulma thought that maybe she could learn some things from the planner that she could use for that one, too!

"Oilooo!" Trunks said, looking triumphant as he stepped along the stone path. Walking was something that he was still in the process of perfecting, but lately he'd been getting good at covering long distances without losing his balance. He hadn't been seeing his _mommy_ quite as often in the past week – she'd be out of the house before he woke up, and she wouldn't come home until late at night. But Trunks noticed that with his mother's absence, he was seeing his father more and more…

… On one of those days, Vegeta had fetched Trunks, taking him into the spaceship for an entire afternoon as he trained! Trunks got a lot of walking practice that day, and it made him so proud to be doing such a thing in the company of _that man_ he admired so dearly. What he wasn't used to, though, was the stark contrast between the way his mommy spoke to him, and the way his _daddy_ spoke to him. While mommy did her share of tough love, she was still a very doting and affectionate person, never too shy to pick Trunks up and swing him around, cooing and professing her love for the little boy.

 _Daddy_ , on the other hand, never did anything of that sort. He was either completely ignoring Trunks, focused on his own training as he threw his fists into the air and swung his legs at lightning speed, or he was watching Trunks _too_ closely to see what the baby's progress was. Sometimes Trunks would fall. Sometimes, all he would do was misstep and have to catch his balance. But when these instances occurred, there were two things _daddy_ would do. He would either say something along the lines of "don't expect sympathy from me like _your mother_ is so generous with – get up and keep going! Now!" or, if Trunks corrected his mistake before daddy had time to react, the man would cross his arms, slighting his head in approval before turning back around and continuing with his own forms.

Yes, days spent with Daddy were much more serious and intense than the ones spent with Mommy. But there was something about Vegeta's demeanor that touched Trunks on a deep level. He felt a bond so strong that he couldn't comprehend how to even think of it, _especially_ with his young baby brain. It was as if his _daddy_ was the only one who understood his desire to be left alone in order to focus on bettering himself. As if _daddy_ was the one person who could understand the need to strive for physical perfection. The two would hardly interact as they spent their days together, and yet there was a social bond and understanding that drew Trunks to feel quite connected to the big man with the spiky black hair...

"Trunks, you're getting so _good_ at this!" Bulma cooed, snapping the baby out of his happy memory. Suddenly Trunks was back outside, toddling home from the park with his mother, instead of inside the spaceship with his father. The baby looked up and cooed, a grin spreading out over his cheeks. If only his mother knew how productive his days with daddy had been lately. If only he could explain it to her! One day he was going to be able to form his own words and talk to her, just like how she talked to him. And when that day came he was going to have so much to say!

Bulma walked with Trunks, through the darkening streets as the sun slowly set, and into the warm atmosphere of her own house. Upstairs she stepped, having been given some time to herself after Mrs. Briefs quickly whisked Trunks away. Listening to her mom interacting with the baby downstairs, Bulma felt an odd sense of loneliness as she made her way into her room. Still feeling pained from her conversation with Vegeta, it was hard to feel at ease. In fact, her mind had been racing ever since their talk. With his words, his face, memories of them both, and with her current predicament.

_What an odd feeling it was to desire his presence, yet feel unable to allow herself to be vulnerable enough to enjoy it..._

Hoping she'd received the email she was waiting for, Bulma stretched her muscles as she stepped into the darkness of her room. She clicked on the light, taking a deep breath as her tired mind adjusted to her surroundings. Back in her room, with images of her baby and her own childhood lining the walls, Bulma felt nearly safe. As she made her way to the computer sitting on her desk, she couldn't help but to eye her bed.

It was then that she stopped, looking it over in silence.

_What was this?_

She stepped carefully, focusing on the object that had caught her eye. It was laying on the pillow, quite uncanny and cool. How long had it been there that she hadn't noticed, and how long _would_ it have remained had she not looked? It was as if her mind hadn't yet connected what the object was, as she stepped forward and watched it with trepidation.

In fact, it wasn't until she was close enough to reach out and touch the item that she began to see what it was. Her fingers carefully grasping it as she lifted it to her face.

It was a single blue rose, the petals sporting a deep hue of cobalt as she twisted the flower in admiration. Having never seen such a plant before, her breath caught in her throat. What a beautiful and mythical thing it was, and Bulma could hardly register in her mind as she inspected it. The petals felt soft when she brushed her fingertips against it, and her pupils were fixated on the deep blue that was reflecting at her.

Slowly, despite the emptiness she'd been suffering from inside, there was something else.

Her lips began to slowly stretch into a soft smile, and she gripped she rose tighter into her hand, feeling as the thorns dangerously pressed against her skin. Her eyelids shut, and she pulled the flower into her chest.

"I can't believe it," She whispered, to nobody in particular.

" _Vegeta_."

 


	18. Vegeta's Field

Vegeta stood, sweat dripping at his forehead. His pulse was soaring as he caught his breath. Standing in the center of _his_ gravity room, the smell of fresh equipment was still present in the air of this newly paved chamber. His nostrils flared as he inhaled – he'd never cared much for such an odor. And while he was still waiting for the day that his gravity chamber was successfully aired out, the thrill of standing in one that was _new_ and _his_ was more than intoxicating.

It'd only been a few days that he'd been settled into his new house, and he certainly kept himself busy in that time. Adjusting back into his old instincts for survival, he was waking at the crack of dawn each morning. His first few hours were spent flying through the country-side and fetching himself food for the day. On some days this had proven to be giant fish that he'd challenged and defeated, on others he simply relished in a wild cow or two. But, regardless of what his choice for sustenance would be, he was certain to keep his stomach full each day.

Aside from the aspect of food, there was another task that he was sure to fulfill as part of his daily routine. Making a detour on his way home each morning, the saiyan would stop to retrieve a certain item. The object in question was an enchanting plant that he'd come across quite a long time ago. He first discovered it during the months of seclusion he'd spent in nature as he completed his training leading up to the Androids' emergence. It was during that time that Vegeta had left his woman and his then-newborn son to seek solitude in the wilderness, straining himself to exhaustion each day, both physically and mentally. And each night he had slept among the worms of the mud, in his make-shift bunker that he'd constructed upon his arrival. It was a long and limitless cycle that he quickly became captivated by at that point in his life. He had been stuck in a fog – his warrior instincts finding delight in the strict routine of never-ending physical exertion and focus. Such a lifestyle was exhilarating, much like when he first made the transition into super saiyan. It worked to intoxicate his soul, and it wasn't long before he found himself completely submerged with his own goals and need for perfection. It was an endless daze of obsession and desire that he hadn't cared to pull himself out of, utilizing every moment he was awake to work towards his desire of achieving ultimate strength. It was as if the saiyan were sinking into a pit of self-perfection, and he was failing to find the motivation to pull himself out of it.

He'd been mentally trapped within that coffin, time flying by as quickly as it came. But slowly, surely, his subconscious managed to finally pull him back to reality. It was a slow process of certain images and ideas flashing in his mind, and eventually his senses did become sobered, and he’d recognized that he needed to return to the woman and greet the Androids. But what was it that had spurred his subconscious into bringing him to such an epiphany? What was it that finally dragged him out of his mental pit?

It seems that what initiated this change had been when he'd accidentally uncovered a certain _blue._

 _A blue field,_ hidden beyond the depths of the forest. Underneath the heads of the trees and tucked safely away from the threat of sunlight, this field appeared to have not yet been uncovered by human civilization. Vegeta had come across it during a session of training, in which he'd been flying through the trees in order to practice his speed. He had dipped between branches and tree trunks, relishing in his speed as he successfully dodged any obstacles that crossed his path. And before he knew it he found himself floating in that wonderful field, his breath taken away at the sight before him. Not even a footprint was embedded into the soil, and the blossoming petals surprised the saiyan as he took in the scene around. He didn't know much about plants, but he didn't think many flowers were capable of blooming in such a way without the sun. And yet, blue and green swayed in the wind, beckoning him to think of _her_. As Vegeta studied these shrubs that danced before him, his core had begun to ache dangerously with memories _of her…_

… It was now months later - months since he'd accidentally found that field - and he'd still hadn't forgotten about those _blue_ roses. Each time he looked into Bulma's deep eyes or thought of her soft hair, he was reminded of that enchanting grove that was neatly tucked away in the forest. The rose was an odd enough plant as it was. With petals as soft as silk and thorns that seductively coiled around the stem, the plant was ready to prod any unsuspecting person that foolishly attempted to handle it in the wrong way. The nature of the rose reminded Vegeta a lot of Bulma. She was beautiful, her aura soft and gentle. Yet it was not unheard of for her to fight back when she felt threatened. She demanded both respect and delicacy - much in the way of a rose, unafraid to prick if need be.

It seemed only suitable that he pluck a single flower from the shrub each morning for his woman. Flying with it tucked neatly under his arm, Vegeta would stop by the Briefs residence to leave the rose placed on the doorstep. His plan was that she would discover the flower as she left the house for work every day, and it was his way of reminding her that she was in his thoughts.

Whatever was to occur between them, he wanted her to be happy.

He wanted her to know that he didn't hold her actions against her.

He wanted her to know she was desired...

It was mid-morning at the Capsule Corp headquarters, and one thought that Tadashi couldn't shrug was how obviously shaken he noticed Bulma had been acting for the past few weeks. While she was generally good about interacting with others in a respectable manner, there was an air that followed her wherever she went, and it really felt tense. On some days Tadashi could sense it more than others. But no matter what, the aura was _always_ there. It was clear that something was stressing her out, and what struck him as worrisome was the fact that her state was _lingering_. It wasn't that she was simply having a bad _day_ and would feel better after a night of rest. Her demeanor was an e _very_ day occurrence. She was unmistakably distracted by her own mind, and it didn't seem to be getting any better as time progressed.

And to make matters more concerning, there was only one thing Tadashi could think of when he saw Bulma in this state. When the intern was in the same room, and could see the faraway glint in her eye, all he could think of was _him. Was she hurting because of **him**?_

 _Him –_ He was an overwhelming stature of tightly packed muscle, extremely black hair, and a violently pompous attitude (or, perhaps, he was instead _pompously violent...)_ _He_ was the man that Tadashi encountered when he'd once taken an ailed Bulma home. The intern had watched as Bulma interacted with this beast, and he was amazed by how absolutely unperturbed she seemed with everything that maniac did. As if she has seen it all before. As if there was nothing left that could shock her.

_Vegeta._

_Vegeta_ was _completely_ hot-headed, and it wasn't right!

Tadashi could remember just how quickly Bulma had become hostile when Dr. Briefs once spoke the name. Whatever relations the two had, her reaction to the mention of " _Vegeta"_ was something the blonde intern didn't consider normal. The mere word alone had been sufficient with putting the Bluehead on the edge, and _that_ was enough to unnerve Tadashi. And, to add to the already peculiar situation, was Dr. Briefs himself. How _calm_ Dr. Briefs was about it all! This was his _daughter_ , and he seemed to hardly care that she was upset. If anything, he seemed to find her behavior amusing!

_Could the professor just not see?_

Was he _really_ this blind, or was there even more to the situation that Tadashi hadn't yet learned? What a confusing and horrifying mess it all was!

And poor Bulma, she was apparently stuck in the very middle of it!

..

Bulma was making her way through the hallway, her white lab coat blowing behind as she moved. While Tadashi had, at one point, worked fairly close to the blue-haired beauty and her father as he was being trained, the intern had now developed responsibilities of his own. These tasks required him to sit and type at the computer - sometimes for hours on end. This meant that he didn't work as closely under Bulma as before, though he would still catch her in the hallways and he would still report to her at the end of each day.

And it was on this particular day that Bulma was making her way down the hall, walking towards him as she went. He always enjoyed seeing her. It was a pleasant surprise that was sure to leave his mind racing, even hours later! He'd managed to grow steadily more comfortable around her, too. Especially since he was now interacting with her nearly every day. That being said, he was still the same awkward man he'd always been. Especially around her – he'd find himself hesitating to speak, stumbling over his words and struggling with a fluttering stomach whenever she was standing near. So, it was because of his newly-found comfort, that Tadashi found the confidence to shoot a grin as she came.

Bulma politely smiled back, her feet shuffling quickly as she charged down the hall. Without even uttering a word she continued her march, running past the intern and leaving him feeling disappointed by her lack of conversation. He turned and watched as she disappeared in the opposite direction, and he could swear she was muttering to herself about how "late" she was with something. There was still an hour left before the day ended, but apparently Bulma was already stressed about time. It was curious, but Tadashi reluctantly returned to his desk.

An hour later, when Tadashi went by her lab to report to her, she still seemed stressed. She was already standing, kneeling down over her desk as she furiously clicked to shut her computer down. There was a pile of papers laying beside her keyboard, and she was muttering to herself once more about how "late" she was for something, cursing under her breath as the computer froze mid-task. Bulma was so distracted with her own endeavor that she hardly even noticed as Tadashi approached. And when she finally glanced up at the intern he was sporting a nervous grin.

"Is it a bad time?" He asked.

"It kind of is." Bulma, feeling distracted, didn't want to be rude. "But it's fine – I know what all you've been working on. We can discuss your progress on Monday, is that okay."

It was Friday afternoon, and Bulma Briefs was feeling the pressure of making it to an appointment she'd made. It'd taken her days of corresponding with the party planner, and finally they had set a date. This party planner in particular was said to be the best in the hemisphere, and her schedule was accordingly tight. Her emails were short and her conduct was hasty. And Bulma, having gathered an idea of the type of woman this planner seemed to be, knew that if she was even 5 minutes late to the meeting she would miss her opportunity altogether.

Glancing at the clock on the screen, Bulma let out an exasperated sigh. "Do me a favor!" She hissed, grabbing her purse and throwing it onto her shoulder. " _Please_ shut down my system for me! I _have_ to go!"

And with that, as Tadashi watched, the stressed scientist fled from the scene. Feeling concerned and somewhat dejected, the intern turned to her desk. Beside her computer lay the pile of papers that he'd seen her carrying with her earlier in the day, and he couldn't help but to think that they were important.

 _Well - whatever she's going to be doing this weekend, I'm pretty sure she will need these..._ Tadashi thought, placing a hand over the top of the pile...

Vegeta was seated in _his_ dining room, alone at _his_ table as he ate. He'd started a fire in his yard and roasted a wild boar for dinner, and he gnawed away in silence. He'd always enjoyed solitude – it was in his nature. And while he found the calm aura of the empty house refreshing in contrast to the chaos that was always rampant in the Briefs household, the saiyan couldn't help but feel that his meal was incomplete without the smart-assed comments that Bulma typically would make at the table.

The two really hadn't spoken very much since he'd officially been moved out of her home. In fact, they’d hardly spoken since the realization she'd made in his room. She hadn't gone out of her way to address him, and he didn't wish to impose herself on her if she still needed her distance in order to cope with her mind. There were times that he would go by the Briefs residence and fetch Trunks from Mrs. Briefs while Bulma was away at work, but that was another story altogether...

He could sense her emotions, though. He felt her ki flare each morning as she stepped out of the house, and he knew that she was reacting to the rose he'd left for her. It never failed to make him smirk when this happened, knowing fully well that she was more flattered than she ever liked to admit. He would also sense her when she arrived back at the home in the evening, typically weak from her fatigue. Though, on this day in particular he hadn't felt her arrival yet. It was nearly an hour later than usual, and this was a bit odd. Vegeta finished with his plate and pushed himself back from the table, curiosity striking as he looked out the window. The sun was already starting to set in the sky, so where was she? She was a woman of routine, and this was not like her.

 _‘Odd…’_ The saiyan thought, as he closed his eyes and focused his energy. _What was she up to?_ It wasn't just that Bulma was missing, but apparently the whole damned family had vacated the premises! Not a single living aura, other than the weak creatures that the professor and his wife kept as pets, could be sensed in that house. As Vegeta's mind searched for the familiar ki of his woman and his child, to see if they were all located in the city, there was something that interfered.

His eyes snapped open. His nerves had suddenly flared. There was a certain ki that he had only encountered once before, and it was now too close in proximity to his liking. No longer concerned with the whereabouts of his kin, Vegeta was now distracted by the person attempting to pay a visit next door.

What _business_ did that beta male have in coming back here?! How _dare_ he find the audacity to show himself after Vegeta had specifically _told_ him to stay away!

Without another thought, the saiyan's energy was soaring. He was going to make sure Tadashi understood boundaries this time – and it was _just_ his luck that there wasn't going to be anybody around to intervene...

.

As Tadashi stood on the porch and knocked at the front door, he couldn't help but have the feeling that he was being watched. But it wasn't as if someone inside the house were peeking out the window to see who was at the door– it was as if someone were standing behind him, and waiting... The intern glanced over his shoulder nervously, only to see that he was alone. He attempted to shrug off his anxiety, giving the door one more knock before pressing his ear against its wood. He stood in silence, holding his breath, listening for a sign of activity on the inside. Instead of hearing the humming of a TV or the shuffling of feet, all he heard coming from the interior of the house was silence.

He blinked dumbly, taking a step back. _What now?_ It was evident that nobody was home. So, with a sigh, Tadashi stepped away from the porch and made his way towards the street where he'd left his car parked. He was holding Bulma's stack of papers in his arms, and he couldn't help but to feel a bit dejected from his wasted trip. And _still,_ there was that sensation that he was _being watched!_

It wasn't until Tadashi had made his way into the street, closing in on his vehicle, when he felt a gust of wind hit him in the back of the neck. The blonde turned, his eyes widening at he came face-to-face with the man he'd encountered once before.

With a gasp, papers went flying, and the intern squirmed as he felt his feet being lifted off the asphalt. He let out a gulp of air and watched in horror as Vegeta held him by the shirt and glared into his eyes. There was a coldness in his pupils that made a chill run down Tadashi's spine, and the young intern let out another yelp before he felt himself being dropped – not _thrown_ \- onto his rear. The saiyan, whose initial instinct was to chuck the intern with all his might, had been sobered by the idea that he'd be on even worse terms with Bulma if he did such a thing. So, instead of sending Tadashi to the other side of the planet, he remembered how fragile Earth creatures were and decided dropping him on his ass would suffice.

" **What do you think you're doing here?** " The saiyan snapped, glaring down at him with his hands on his hips. The thunder in his voice was one Vegeta couldn't control, and his pupils flared as he looked upon the intern with loathing.

Tadashi, feeling that his suspicions of this man were now confirmed, felt his own eyebrows furrow. He grabbed at the asphalt below him, clenching as he attempted to raise himself back onto his feet. " _You_ _!_ " He breathed, feeling slight panic as he temporarily forgot how to work his legs.

Vegeta, finding the display pathetic, prodded at the intern with his boot. " **Answer me at once! What business do you have coming here!?** "

Tadashi let out another yelp before managing to pull himself to his feet. "I came here to see Bulma!" He yelled back, his eyes watering slightly as he realized that Bulma's stack of papers had now been scattered about the asphalt around them.

Vegeta crossed his arms and spit down onto the street. " **I _told you_ to stay away from her** , **_didn't_ I?** "

"I just came here to give Bulma her documents that she left behind!" Tadashi yowled, his limbs shaking in shock. "They-they seemed important to her! And you..." His head turned at he looked over the display of papers that surrounded the two. Vegeta followed his gaze, turning to see the mess. The saiyan had been so blinded by his rage that he wasn't even aware that the beta male had been carrying anything.

With a sigh, Vegeta backed off from the creature in front of him. "Pick them up, then." He said, once again locking eyes with the beta.

Tadashi gulped, his eyebrows furrowing by the nerve of this man! " _What?_ "

"You heard me. Pick. Them. Up." Not even a kilogram of sarcasm in the saiyan's tone.

" _You're_ the one who manhandled _me_!" Tadashi argued, "You ruined her documents! And you're telling _me_ to clean this up?!"

Without a warning the saiyan shot out an arm and grabbed the mouthy intern by the shirt once more. **"I don't think you're in a position to give me lip, now, are you?** " He hissed, giving the beta male a firm shake before pushing him back.

Tadashi landed on his rear once again, with a yelp. Without another protest he immediately scrambled to scoop the scattered pile into his arms. ‘ _She LIVES with this man!?’_ Was all he could think, his breath heaving as he moved. When he was finished with his assigned task, the intern shot Vegeta a frightened look of hate. "Give it here." The saiyan ordered, gesturing his hand towards the pile in Tadashi's arms.

" _I_ came here to give these to _Bulma._ " The intern replied, his voice shaking just as much as his nerves.

"Isn't it obvious that she isn't home!? _I_ will see to it that she receives her items upon her return."

Tadashi clutched at the stack in his arms, tempted to argue back at the beast before him. Though he knew it would be no use – Vegeta could _easily_ shove him again, resulting in those papers going flying once more... "You – you'll tell her that _I_ brought these by?" He gulped, hesitant to give Vegeta an opportunity to look like a _hero._

The saiyan snarled in response, a disgusted look on his face. "She will receive her items, _that_ you can be sure of."

A moment later Tadashi was safely tucked into his car, speeding away as fast as he could. His heart was pounding and his mouth felt dry. A monster! That man back there was nothing less of a monster! He was capable of lifting and throwing the intern as if he weighed no more than a peanut! Tadashi couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about Vegeta came off as _un-human_. Almost robotic, almost beast-like, there was a lack of humanity in his eyes that everyone else had.

And the idea of Bulma being subjected to such a thing!

It was too much to bear!

.

Vegeta watched as the intern's vehicle disappeared into the sky. That squirrely little blonde, though physically inept, was not to be trusted. The saiyan was certain that Bulma would _never_ go with someone as pathetic as _this weasel,_ but then again – she _had_ stooped so low as to bed Yamcha at one point!

 _Great_ , Vegeta let out a low growl. Even though it was established by now that Bulma and Yamcha were hardly even on speaking terms, the saiyan prince wasn't fond of remembering that the two had been together at one point.

 _He couldn't stand the thought of **anyone else** brushing a hand across her skin. _It didn't suit her.

There was no way of changing what she'd done in the past before she'd come into his life, but he'd be damned if he stood idly by and watched such a wimpy little man attempt to usurp his position as Bulma's other. There was only one way that someone would take Vegeta's place, and that would only be if they managed to destroy him in a battle.

He would surely fight to the death before allowing _anyone_ to touch her...

It wasn’t just the obvious attraction to Bulma that bothered Vegeta about this beta male. But it was also this rodent’s lack of boundaries. He’d had no right to invade Bulma’s privacy and visit her home…

The saiyan growled. _Nobody_ was going to hurt her, and it _certainly wasn't_ going to be a little blonde pest that seemed to get winded just by turning the ignition of his damned vehicle!

With a furious sigh, the saiyan began to head back to _his_ home. He'd worked himself up into a mood, and he was going to be spending the next few hours in his gravity room just to blow off his steam.

 


	19. The Appointment

_Bulma was devastated._

Not only had she been 30 minutes late for the appointment she'd made, but she also managed to show up empty-handed. Not a single note or plan that she'd printed out was with her. After all of the time she'd spent corresponding through email, making promises and agreeing to tasks that were demanded of her – after _all_ of that, she had arrived at the appointment late _and_ ill-prepared.

Because of this the meeting turned out to be rather brief and awkward. Misuki, the party planner, didn't do a good job in masking her irritation. "Oh, so you decided to _finally_ show up," She said when a flustered Bulma came running into the cafe. "I am a very busy woman, and I'll have you know that I take my time _very seriously, Ms. Bulma._ "

The Bluehead, feeling somewhat offended by Misuki's tone, did her best to alleviate the stress of the situation. It was a strain, because Bulma typically wasn't one to receive an attitude so submissively. Yet she understood Misuki's position as one of the most sought after planners in her area, and she wasn't exactly enthusiastic about losing her own opportunity to work with her.

 _‘She has a right to be annoyed - you WERE late, after all!’_ Bulma thought with gritted teeth as Misuki tossed her hair. ‘ _You can learn so much from her, then you'll never have to hire her again! Just make it work...’_

Alas, after a short conversation, the party planner resolved to cut the meeting short. "I will be in town tomorrow night – I have an appointment with one of my _other_ clients." Misuki announced, stepping up from the chair she'd been sitting in. "I suppose we can try this again after _that_. Perhaps you'll _actually_ be ready to have a _serious_ conversation?" Bulma, swallowing her tongue, nodded politely. And so, with that, the two shook hostile hands and agreed to meet at 8 P.M. the following evening.

Furious with herself and offended by Misuki's conduct, Bulma let out a loud curse when she turned the ignition of her helicopter. " _I'll show **you** how to be prepared!_ " She hissed, shooting off into the air. How _could_ she have left all of the notes she'd made behind!? The only thing on her mind at that moment was flying straight to work and grabbing the pile off her desk. It was frustrating to know, though, that this wasn't currently an option for her. Instead, she was on her way to meet her parents a few blocks away. Mr. and Mrs. Briefs were going to go on a trip out of town and spend the weekend in a cabin in the mountains. Bulma, not wanting to leave the comfort of her air conditioner, had opted to instead stay home with Trunks. It was because of this that arrangements were made for her to meet her parents in the city after her appointment with Misuki. And the exchange with her parents was a quick encounter – after a rushed swapping of words (and Trunks), Mr. and Mrs. Briefs bid their farewells and disappeared in their neatly packed car.

Of course, Bulma took off again in her own helicopter, flying in the opposite direction of her parents as she made a bee-line for her home. She was desperate to be able to relax, so she didn't want to stop by her lab that evening. She'd simply have to leave early the following day and grab her documents on the way to the meeting! It was now getting late, she was exhausted and hungry after such a long and stressful day, and Trunks was angry about having to spend so much time confined in his car seat. All the Bluehead wanted at that moment was to just get home. And so, with her baby yelling his protests in the back seat, Bulma silently daydreamed about a warm bath as her helicopter drifted into the clouds...

… Stepping inside the safety of the Briefs household, Bulma set Trunks down on the linoleum of the kitchen. She watched as he eagerly pulled himself to his feet and toddled away. The weary mother headed towards the refrigerator, desperate to fill her stomach. She was hoping that Mrs. Briefs had perhaps left some food prepared that would be easy to warm up. Before she could inspect for such a thing, though, she heard a clatter going on from behind. Thinking it was Trunks who was making a mess, the worn-out mother let out a deep sigh. Bulma turned to see what her son had done. But Trunks was nowhere to be seen – instead, she was looking at the silhouette of a _very_ familiar man.

"Vegeta," She gasped, surprise shaking her tone. Bulma had hardly seen him at all for the entire week. It'd been on Monday that he'd left - when she'd come home to find that he'd officially made the transition to living in his own house while she'd been at work. He hadn't even said goodbye. He'd simply packed up and removed himself from the Briefs household while she’d had been away for the day, and since then she hadn't seen him at all! If it hadn't been for the single blue rose that he left on her doorstep each morning, Bulma would have thought that Vegeta didn't care at all...

...Yet somehow, when she saw that blue rose _each_ morning, it seemed to give her enough strength to make it through the day...

And it was now Friday evening, and he was standing in her kitchen. Looking at her. Not a word leaving his mouth as he watched her.

 _With those pupils of his_.

The glad emotion that swept through her bones was undeniable, but the serious expression on his face deterred her from acknowledging it. Vegeta was holding something in his arms that caught her eye, and with a thud he dropped it on the kitchen table. "What is-?" Her face lit up, realization dawning over what he'd just delivered. A delighted gasp escaped her lips, and the scientist jumped to confirm her suspicions, running across the room to clap her hands on the table.

"Hey!" She breathed, tracing her finger over the pile. "These are my plans!"

Vegeta stood back and watched her reaction. It was a rare display, to be sure. For a moment the worn-out hue in her eyes was replaced by something else instead. A light twinkled through her skin, and her face suddenly looked twenty shades brighter. She _actually_ looked so glad – genuinely _glad_. A pleasant state of euphoria that came from receiving something so good in such an expected way. It was true that she was happy - and _much_ more happy than he'd seen her in a long time. This emotion looked _amazing_ on her.

... _He always loved to see her smile..._

"How?" Bulma was asking, thrilled that she no longer had to worry about retrieving her documents from her lab. Nothing could have surprised her as much as this did, and her mood had instantly been cheered.

Vegeta shifted his weight, still gazing over his woman in awe. No matter how he relished in seeing the joy on her face, the saiyan couldn't help but feel his chest twinge when this question was asked. _He_ hadn't been the source of her delight – he'd only been the messenger. Of _all_ people to bring such a pleasant spark to her face, _why did it have to be the beta?_

 _Not him.. **Anyone**_ but _him..._

"They were delivered to me. A person from your workplace came by." The saiyan grunted, clearing the words from his throat. Well, at least this wasn't a _complete_ lie. It was just that he hadn't told the _entire_ truth!

 _Someone from work?_ Bulma's eyebrows rose with curiosity, but before she had a chance to ask for elaboration the room began to shake. The joy quickly whipped out from her eyes, replaced with concern as the kitchen instantly filled with the sound of Trunks' howls.

"Oh, Trunks!" Bulma called, racing from the room to find her son. Vegeta watched as he went, lamenting that her pleasant state seemed to cease just as quickly as it came.

Little Trunks was in the hall, his head covered in dirt as he yowled furiously. His hands were balled into fists, and he was beating them onto the carpet below to express his anger. "Oh baby, what happened?!" Bulma cooed, bending down and scooping the child into her arms. Trunks clung to his mother, voicing his protests as she bounced him in her arms.

What had happened was the worst offense that Trunks could imagine. He'd been toddling through the hallway, enjoying the feel of the carpet as it brushed between his toes. Everything had been going relatively fine – he was happy to be home, he was successfully walking, and he was relishing in the power that he felt to be achieving such a task! ‘ _Not a thing could possibly go wrong!’_ He’d thought. ‘ _I can take on **anything**!’_

 _Anything_ , that is, _except for his legs giving out from under him_! And that is just what happened – with a jolt the baby was suddenly on alert, his heart jolting as his torso dangerously wobbled back and forth. He was going to lose his balance – _he was going to fall!_ The baby instinctively grabbed at the closest object nearby to catch himself. And, in this moment, the object that Trunks reached for happened to be a plant stand that was displaying a clay pot filled with tulips. Mrs. Briefs was always delighted in the flowers that she grew, and there were plant stands scattered _all_ about the house. Unfortunately for little Trunks, these weren't very stable. The stand gave a jerk when the baby grabbed it, and it rocked from side to side until the clay pot finally toppled over the surface.

It felt like an eternity to Trunks, as he stared as the pot rolled off the top of the stand. And he watched as the pot, in painfully slow motion, grew larger as it came down towards his face... Within a split second the clay had cracked and exploded, leaving a cloud of soil to settle over the baby's tense body.

Trunks wasn't necessarily crying because of the consequential bump on his head – _sure,_ it hurt - but it was frustration that induced his tears more than anything else. ‘ _Stupid thing!’_ He thought, rubbing his eyes to dry away the residual tears. If the pot hadn't already vanished upon impact with his skull, Trunks would've surely destroyed it himself... _That pot deserved to pay for what it'd done to him!_

"Oh, you're _always_ getting into trouble, aren't you?" Bulma was purring, carrying the baby back towards the kitchen. Trunks' sobs were finally starting to subside, and he squeezed at his mother's shoulder to show that he was still strong. The Bluehead was eager to finish her conversation with Vegeta about the documents, but when she turned into the room she saw he was now gone.

"It's _just_ like your father to disappear, isn't it?" Bulma commented, bouncing the baby in her arms. She was a bit disappointed to see he'd taken such an opportunity to make an exit, but she wasn't very surprised. It was just like Vegeta to be a _man of few words..._ She turned to give one more look at the stack of papers he'd delivered, and she found that she was in too high of spirits to be upset by his departure. He'd done her an enormous favor in bringing those by, and she just wished she'd had the opportunity to thank him before he'd left!

.

The documents in question were an assortment of papers and forms that Misuki, _the party planner_ , had specifically requested. These varied from applications, to even a contractual agreement that she'd emailed to Bulma. Misuki instructed her to print it out and have it signed for their meeting. There were also various notes, such as dimensions of the room in which the party would be held (Bulma had to make an estimate since she didn't have the liberty to get Chi-Chi's living room measured in accuracy), Chi-Chi's favorite color scheme, Chi-Chi's personal interests in order to select a party theme, payment information, food allergies of guests, and more.

To Bulma it all seemed to be over-the-top. She'd mainly been interested in organizing a registry and get ideas on different party games and activities that they could participate in for a Baby Shower. _Perhaps_ she may have even been interested in hiring a photographer. Chi-Chi _was_ pregnant with Goku's _baby_ , after all! The _last_ child he'd ever father! And Bulma wanted it to be as special and sentimental of an event as possible!

But the _last_ thing she cared about was the party décor – _not if it was going to require all of this!_ It seemed that she and Misuki were on completely different pages, though, for this seemed to be the _only_ concern of the party planner's. Yet despite all of this Bulma was still hoping to learn a few things about organizing an event herself. Misuki was _the_ go-to planner, after all! It was because of this that the Bluehead gave her the benefit of the doubt, and she humored every single request that was demanded. It had been a pain, and it took quite some time to fill out all of the paperwork that had been e-mailed to her, but she'd obliged to it _all._ And this is why it had been especially upsetting to realize she'd left the stack on her desk in her lab. Misuki had long established that without any other the papers – _especially her ridiculous contract –_ there would be _no_ planning _._

 _This was why it felt **so** good _ when Bulma stepped in through the doors of the cafe the following day, documents in tow. She was toting Trunks in her arms, the paperwork neatly tucked into a bag that was hanging over her shoulder. Unfortunately for the Bluehead, Vegeta had been out of his house all afternoon. She'd attempted to go by his place for a conversation, and to even ask if he'd be able to watch the baby during her meeting, but to no avail. Bulma hadn't really expected the saiyan to agree to such a thing as _babysitting_ anyway, so it wasn't a difficult decision for her to make when she opted to bring her son. She was aware that some might look down on the idea of bringing a baby to what was more-or-less to be considered a business meeting, but what choice did she have?

The Bluehead was still offended by Misuki's attitude towards her the previous day, so being professional wasn't the highest of her priorities. And if _that woman_ was going to throw a fit over Trunks joining in on their conversation, _then Bulma was just going to have to teach her a thing or two about respect_. As far as she was concerned, this would be the party planner's last chance as redeeming herself as the specialist that she claimed to be. And so Bulma took a seat, ordering a cup of tea for herself and a cup of water for Trunks, and she began to wait for Misuki to show up.

–

Vegeta was standing in the forest – that _same_ forest that he always went to when he wanted to train in nature. It was too much to take – the rage that burned inside whenever he thought of Tadashi. In his mind all that Vegeta could see was Bulma, her features glowing with joy after receiving an item that the _beta_ had left for her. The saiyan growled, his eyebrows furrowing. Why did she never seem to smile in that way for _him_?!

The saiyan had spent the entire day in the forest, having left at the crack of dawn. Taking his frustrations out on the nature surrounding him, he'd destroyed many trees that crossed his path as he blasted his frustrations into the Earth's soil. He was too focused on clearing his mind to care about the path of demolition that he left in his trail. All he cared for was to relieve his body of the intense fury that boiled through his veins, and he didn't realize how much time had passed until he looked up and saw that the sun was setting into the sky.

.

"I don't _believe_ this!" Bulma hissed, eying her wristwatch in frustration. It was now 8:15 P.M., fifteen minutes past their set appointment time, and Misuki was too punctual to just _accidentally_ be running late.

"She stood us up, Trunks!" Bulma hissed to her baby. Little Trunks was sitting on her lap as she spoon-fed him some broth that she'd ordered. "MmM," He replied, feeling a bit tired. He wasn't used to being out in the evening, and it was proving to be more exhausting than he'd been prepared for. When the baby was done with his meal, Bulma set him down to her side, and he lay his head on her lap.

"Well!" She growled, turning to dig into the bag she'd brought with her. Bulma had taken the time to write everything down that Misuki had requested. She'd made the effort to designate her evening towards finally getting plans arranged. And she _was going_ to get it done, whether she had help or not! _Nothing was_ going to delay those plans _anymore!_ It was daunting and it was a lot, but Bulma was tired of allowing herself to be held back by unreliable people! She was going to stay seated, with her son asleep at her side, and she was going to get as much down on paper as she could! She'd come all the way to the city to get this party arranged for once and for all, and she was going to do just that!

She was, after all, _Bulma_ fucking _Briefs!_ Misuki was going to regret treating her the way she had. _Nobody_ was going to disrespect her in this ever again!

**_Nobody_ ** _._

Little did Bulma know, though, that in just a couple of hours she was going to meet **_Rikuto Kubo_** _..._

 


	20. Rikuto Kubo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, real quick, I wanted to say a couple of things about this chapter and the next one that will be posted. 
> 
> First of all, here's a fun fact. I typed the original draft for these next two chapters way before I was even done with The 3 Year Gap. These are actually what contributed to me deciding that I wanted to make this sequel. I just didn't feel that they fit in with "The 3 Year Gap", so I put them aside to see what I could do with them! Now, here they are!
> 
> With that, I also wanted to mention that these next couple of chapters do require a trigger warning. I do not want to spoil the contents, but I want to make it clear that there are a few scenes pertaining to assault. I can't say how "bad" they are, because everyone has a different opinion on assault, everyone has an individual history, and different things can trigger different people. Please be aware of that. 
> 
> The content in this chapter may or may not also be found as "triggering" to individuals who have a history of substance abuse, whether personally or in their family. In no way is the intention of this chapter to hurt anyone or make light of these type of events.
> 
> With that all said, I do hope you enjoy this.

* * *

 

 

 _Rikuto Kubo_ stepped out of the dimly lit bar and into the crisp night air. He'd had a few drinks as he sat alone in thought, and he was feeling some of their effects. Yet he'd run out of cash before he'd been able to get completely obliterated. ‘ _Damn!’_ He thought bitterly, kicking at an empty can that was laying near his foot on the pavement. What a letdown it was to have to face the night relatively sober.

_Especially a night like this._

With a spark of his lighter he ignited the cigarette in his mouth and took in a deep breath of smoke, thinking icily of the men he would have to face the next day. The guys from the Gyangu had been warning him for weeks that they were growing impatient with his inability to pay back the debt he owed...

The fact of the matter was that Rikuto had developed a liking for a certain substance during the last year. In the beginning it'd simply been an effortless moment of fun - something that a friend had offered him during a late night, and he'd been delighted with how it affected him. Not only did it work successfully in diluting his thoughts - exaggerating his pleasures and allowing him to forget his regrets, but it'd made his body feel _blissfully_ weightless. It was a sensation he quickly grew to enjoy, and he easily found that he preferred to spend his weekend nights in such a painless state.

To make things even better - at least, that's how he'd felt in the beginning - the substance was easy to score on the streets. All it took was a quick exchange of words and cash, and he had all he needed to enjoy another evening of fun. The problem was, though, that the more time he spent in the company of his new-found joy, the worse he felt when he _wasn't_ using.

It didn't happen for the first couple of weeks, but one morning Rikuto woke up to an unpleasant surprise.

_The sickness._

Muscular trembles, stomach cramps, shortness of breath, and nausea... These symptoms were the least of his worries when he fell into the arms of _the sickness. A complete panic, it spread over his body as if he were waiting for his limbs to be ripped apart. Such a_ state was enough to make him dread even waking up in the mornings, and the only cure was to use even more. What was originally just an _effortless joy_ quickly became the only medicine that would soothe his cold sweats, and Rikuto soon found that his substance was no longer limited to just Friday and Saturday nights. His substance had suddenly become a part of his morning routine - just like an obligatory cup of coffee. He needed it each afternoon to ward off withdrawals, and surely in the evening too.

Such a dilemma was enough to drain his paychecks - _but what choice did he have_? Without the substance his body felt _broken, weak, unable to function._ How could Rikuto gather the capacity to go about his day if he didn't have a _fix_? The substance wasn't even _about_ finding exhilaration and pleasure anymore – he sought the drug simply to not feel _broken._ And it didn't take long for Rikuto's desperation of keeping a steady supply to bring him to unsafe ways of obtaining money...

Borrowing from the Gyangu was easy enough – it didn't take much convincing, and they were more than happy to offer the money to him. _But the condition was_ that they expected twice as much in return. It was strict, and it was unforgiving, but these were the terms that Rikuto agreed to with little hesitation. The idea of once again being able to escape from the bone-chilling shakes and soothe his withdrawals had long ago blinded him from making rational choices. As a matter of fact, he'd been completely convinced that the whole world was about to end at the hands of a large green toad named _Cell,_ anyway. So what difference did it make if he agreed to a contract? His withdrawals would be soothed once again, and he wouldn't have to even worry about fulfilling his end of the bargain...

..

...Unfortunately for Rikuto Kubo, this assumption turned out to be wrong...

He was pretty sure that he'd been the only person to be unpleasantly surprised when he realized his life had been spared... Unlike the rest of the world around him, Rikuto found little relief when he learned that Cell had been defeated. In fact, such news opened the door to a world of horrors that seemed much worse than perishing at the hands of that green oaf he's seen on TV. The prospect of having a long life was suddenly an option to him again. Yet as soon as this thought came, it quickly vanished. Living wasn't so plausible when he had his debt with the Gyangu - a debt he _knew_ he couldn't pay. And _they_ would do a lot more to him than simply put him out of his misery – they'd torture him first. It was a part of their verbal contract. They were going to make sure that he suffered... They would mangle his body, disfigure it as he screamed, and when it was all over they would leave his remains in the street – a warning to anyone else of what would happen if they dared outsmart the Gyangu.

It was hard to come up with the money when he was unemployed. He'd lost his job long ago, his habit robbing him of any motivation to wake up early or sit at a desk for 8 hours. And _even_ if he wanted to work, nobody would hire him in his state. Still, Rikuto had managed to accumulate nearly half of the debt he owed by shoplifting and snatching purses. He was proud of his progress, and he thought that perhaps it could buy him some time to extend his deadline. Yet the Gyangu was dissatisfied when he presented the lump of cash to them - they'd even turned it away. " _All or nothing,_ " they threatened. " _You have until the 12th to pay us the cash, or you'll compensate in other ways."_

_.._

Now, alone and morose, Rikuto stood in the darkened street. Feeling frustrated and hopeless, he'd just spent the last of his money on sake and cigarettes. He'd been seeking to forget about the doom he would face the next day, and it hadn't worked. He'd run out of money before he had the chance to even become slightly tipsy, and now he was stuck in his sobriety. _Stuck._ Facing his hard reality, with _no way_ to escape. It was his last night on Earth, and he was going to have to spend it in such a dreadfully sober state!

The street was lit with signs of business left and right, but for the most part it was relatively empty. Sure, there were a few people that passed him by, but it wasn't nearly as crowded as a street could be in the town center. Rikuto began to walk, puffing at his cigarette as he thought coldly of the day that lay ahead. The prospect of torture was dreadful to say the least, but the thought of how empty his pockets were was what _really_ soured his mood. He was going to have to face the night sober. Sober, and his withdrawals would inevitably be starting up at any minute...

Perhaps he could snatch another purse and pay for a train ticket out of town. The thought crossed his mind lazily. _But what would he do, then?_ The Gyangu could still find him. They had ties in every city. Escaping from their watch was like trying to breathe underwater. And traveling wouldn't cure his ceaseless withdrawal symptoms. He couldn't run from himself.

_He was doomed either way, though, wasn't he?_

And, with that thought, Rikuto decided he had nothing more to hope for. He _really_ was doomed, regardless of what he did! _So why not at least try to score enough money to get a fix for his withdrawals?_ The idea of being able to enjoy _just_ one more injection during his last night on Earth was enough to cheer his mood. That was it - the best option he had at that moment! He was going to mug a few people until he had enough cash to obliterate his mind for his final night.

The man began to scout out businesses. He continued to make his way down the street, finding a good spot where he could easily escape after making a steal. He stopped by a building with a sign that simply read "CAFE" and kicked his cigarette into the concrete. It was easy to step into the shadows when the sun was long gone. The only question was how long he'd have to wait for an unsuspecting victim...

It turned out that he didn't have to wait long at all, and his eyes lit up when he saw _her_. She was more than an easy target, as her mind was distracted from the moment she stepped outside. A young boy balanced on her hip, the woman was fumbling with her arm in a bag as muttering under her breath. She was absolutely distracted with whatever it was she was trying to get out of her bag, presumably her car keys, and she would never see him coming...

Rikuto was about to make his move, but he stopped himself.

 _There was something about her that seemed familiar_. When she turned slightly and pushed her hair behind her ear Rikuto was able to catch a clear glimpse of her face. _Not only was it beautiful, it was familiar_. The more he studied her from the shadows, holding his breath to avoid being found, the more sure he felt that he'd seen her face before.

 _But who was she?_ Rikuto, feeling completely sober now, began to search his pained brain to remember. _Where had he seen her? And when?_ He studied this girl, his eyes trailing down her back and over her hips. He was inspecting every part of her body that he could make out, a twinge of awe building within as he gazed over her curves. But it was when his eyes locked on the back of her shoulder that his heart began to race. It was the confirmation he'd been searching for.

There, on her shoulder, was a Capsule Corp patch.

_Was that... was that the **Briefs** girl? _

_‘Yes_...’ He thought, leaning forward in the shadows. _This_ **_was_** _the Briefs girl_! There was no doubt about it _That_ was why she looked familiar! He'd seen her face printed in newspapers from time to time, standing alongside her crazy old father who'd inevitably revealed yet another gadget he'd designed. As Rikuto continued to examine her from his hiding spot, he couldn't help but feel a jolt of electricity run through his body. She was looking older and more _developed_ than she had the last time he'd seen her... But, then again, it had been a few years since her picture was in print. The Briefs family were well known for being a bit antisocial and weird, but they were also known for working with the space center and helping to advance technology that was now being incorporated into the daily lives of citizens far and near. There was no doubt that the family was worth a pretty decent amount of money. In fact, Rikuto could _swear_ that he'd once read that the Briefs were among the most wealthy of families in the world!

_They would pay a lot if their daughter happened to be abducted.. And they'd pay **twice** as much in exchange for their daughter **and** their grandson's lives..._

...Surely the Gyangu would extend his deadline if he could promise them _three_ times the amount that he owed them. Surely, with this new surge of wealth that had suddenly been gifted on him, Rikuto would be able to alleviate his symptoms _and_ find a new life far away from the clutches of the Gyangu. Perhaps he could even travel to the U.S., to disappear and live the rest of his life in solitude! Once again, Rikuto Kubo was feeling the hopes and excitement of the prospect at a new chance of life. And this time, he was going to take advantage of his opportunity. He _wouldn't_ let it get away...

Feeling a new surge of energy as adrenaline began to course through his limbs, Rikuto slowly stepped out from the shadows...

"This _damn_ bag!" Bulma was muttering under her breath. She knew the capsule was in there – she _knew_ it, but the capsule had dropped to the bottom of the bag, and she was struggling to fish it out with only one arm. "I knew I should have just put it in my pocket!" She was about to place Trunks down by her side, when something made her change her mind.

"Hey." A voice said. It was enough to make her jump, and for a quick second she felt embarrassment. She hadn't realized that she wasn't alone when she'd been cursing out loud. But the circumstance was eerie – it was night time, and it wasn't usual for her to be approached in this way, not even during the day. Uneasy, she instinctively clutched her son tighter, feeling her heart starting to race. She slowly turned to see a man standing behind her, and she felt her mouth becoming dry. He was standing close – _real_ close, and he seemed to have come out of nowhere. He took a step ever _closer_ , and she could smell the strong odor that was fuming from his clothes. "Do you know anything about... _mechanics_?" The man asked, a slight grin twitching at his cheek. "My car won't start, and I need to get home..."

His question was suspicious, but not entirely surprising – he must have known who she was. It wasn't unheard of for a random person to approach her about Capsule Corp, although it was fairly uncommon. Yet there was something about the tone of his voice that worried Bulma. This man looked unkempt – long whiskers billowing from his jawline, his clothes looking tattered and worn. There was a faraway glint in his eyes, and the nauseating scent radiating from his body told her to be wary. This man wasn't completely "all-there". It was obvious there was something wrong – he participated in _something_ illegal, and she didn't want to know what. All she knew was that she was in potential danger.

"You might need to call someone." She replied, taking a step back. "I think there's a phone in that building if you need one. There's plenty of 24-hour mechanics that work in this area."

"No," The man said. It was then that he shot his arm out and placed his hand over her wrist. It'd happened so fast that she hadn't even had time to dodge it, and she stood in horror as his fingers wrapped around her skin, squeezing her wrist threateningly tight. "I don't think that's necessary. Surely _you_ can have a look at it? It's a _Capsule Corp_ vehicle..." His grin widened, as if a joke had just been made. " _You do_ work for Capsule Corp... _don't you_?"

Trunks could feel his mother's posture stiffen. Her unease was rubbing off on him, and his little heart began to beat fast. _That man was standing too close to mommy._ He needed to back away.

Rikuto's fingers wrapped even tighter around Bulma's wrist, and she fought back the urge to wince in pain. "Stop it!" She snapped, whipping her hand away.

* * *

 

...Inside the restaurant a busboy looked up. He'd been in the middle of cleaning off a table, the business having closed for the evening. But something had just grabbed his attention. _What did he just hear? It sounded like a yell._ He looked towards the door, expecting to see somebody walk inside. Yet nobody did. The busboy turned, noting the television that was mounted on the wall beside him. A soap opera was airing. The couple on the screen were in the middle of a heated fight. It seemed that the woman had caught the man in bed with another woman... Perhaps it had just been the show? _It must_ have just been that show _... The couple on the screen were screaming pretty loud..._ The busboy shrugged and turned back to his table, rubbing at it vigorously. The sooner he finished his tasks, the sooner he could go home!

* * *

 

...Outside Bulma was trying to shove the man away as he gripped her arm with one hand, her hair with the other, and yanked her into his direction. He was working to pull her into the shadows, away from where anybody could easily witness their struggle.

"BAH!" Trunks yelled, trying to warn the man away. His little body was growing hot as his anger rose. He clutched at his mother’s shirt, holding her tight as she fought. Bulma was having a hard time, trying to ward the man off with one arm as she clutched her son with the other. There had been so many times - _so many times -_ that she'd thrown Master Roshi around for touching her inappropriately. Yet this was different - this man was somehow incredibly strong, and it was hard to properly defend herself when she was also trying to protect her son from being hurt in the process.

Rikuto had grabbed her wrist again, his fingernails digging into her skin. "I told you to help me," his voice scratched. His breath was sour and made Bulma gag – a mixture of alcohol, cigarettes, rotting teeth, and something else she couldn't even identify.

"I. Said. No!" Bulma croaked, struggling to free her arm from his grip. The man was pulling her towards the end of the street now, much to her horror. _She couldn't leave this street._ As far as Bulma was concerned, if the stranger managed to pull her into the alley she was as good as done for. With each attempt she made to free herself his fingers clinched her tighter. His other arm gave a tug at her hair, her head being pulled back as her shoulders quivered. It was as if she were struggling to free herself from quick sand, and each time she moved she were sinking even lower into the pit. By now her arm was trembling from the tremendous amount of pain it was in, and she let out another desperate yell in the hopes that somebody would hear.

Trunks let out another howl of his own to try and scare the man away. He wasn't crying, but he was doing all he could think of to try intimidating the man. _Trunks was **furious.**_ Both of the adults were too preoccupied in their power struggle to notice the boy. Bulma was using all of the strength that she had to resist, and she was also fighting to maintain her balance – to keep her body from falling to the ground from to force of his blows.

Despite her efforts the man was winning – it was a slow process, but he was still overpowering her. Bulma's heart was racing more than ever. She couldn't believe how fast everything seemed to escalate – one moment they were fighting on a street, and the next thing she knew he was successfully dragging her around the corner of the building. Her worst fear having come true, he had managed to get her into a dark alley. If nobody came to intervene on the street, there was _no way_ anyone would come to help her back here! ‘ _Doesn't anybody have ears?!’_ Bulma thought. ‘ _Why is nobody helping!?’_

In her arms Trunks was sliding around. His skin was slick with sweat, but she assumed it had been her own that was dripping on him from her struggle. Little did she know how angry the boy was, or how intensely it was brewing inside of him.

Rikuto continued pulling them down the alley as Bulma struggled. She was breathless and gasping for air, her body in shock from this sudden assault. Finally, instead of focusing on fighting him off, she spoke up instead. "Let go of me!" She breathed, surprised at how soft her own voice sounded. "Wh-What are you planning to do?!"

Her tone was unsuspected enough to take Rikuto by surprise, and he stopped what he was doing briefly. Bulma was relieved to have a break for the moment. She stood, panting to catch her breath. The man's fingers were still laced around her wrist tight enough to hurt, but he pulled his other hand out of her hair, giving her scalp relief from the tugging. He shot her a wry grin, his eyes glazing over with amusement. "I already told you. I need you to _fix_ my _car_ ," he said. He spoke as if he hadn't done anything wrong, and she was the one being irrational.

It was then that Bulma came up with her plan. It was the only chance she had for escape, now that she wasn't actively having to resist against being pulled. _It was now or never,_ she _had_ to act before he began his assault once again. Slowly she leaned away from the man, readying herself. "And I told you," she breathed, trying to find something to say to keep him distracted.

_It was now or never._

_She had to try before he started pulling her again._

Bulma took a deep breath, her grasp on Trunks tightening.

"... And I told _you_ to let go of me!" She screamed. She was still leaning back, and she took the opportunity to fiercely flick her knee up. Up it flew, as hard and fast as she could manage, straight into Rikuto's most sensitive area.

"AUGH!" He spat, not having seen it coming at all. Acting on reflex, he let go of her arm completely and grabbed for his tender genitals.

She'd expected her kick to loosen his grip, but she hadn't thought he would completely let go. Without hesitation, she took the opportunity to hug Trunks as tightly as possible, and she turned away. There was only one way she could go, as she ran as quickly as she could. Rikuto had been standing so that she'd have to go around him to make for the street, and she knew that if she did such a thing it would be too easy for him to intercept her trail and grab her again. So, with only a split second to think, she turned and ran deeper into the alley. She was just hoping that somewhere inside she would find a place to hide, or maybe even come across another way out onto the street.

"Hey!" Rikuto yelled. He was still breathless from the impact of her knee, and his voice came out high-pitched and hoarse. Not only was he in pain, but he was angrier than ever. _Who did she think she was to do something like that?!_

_She was his only chance._

_He wasn't going to let her get away._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! A cliffhanger! I am so evil! This will be the last chapter of the night! Come back in 24 hours for the next part! :)


	21. The Dark Alley

The situation was progressing so quickly that Bulma hardly had any time to think. She was acting on instinct, and the only drive at that moment was to get away from this _crazy_ man and protect her child. Trunks seemed to understand the severity of the situation. He was bouncing about like mad as his mother ran, but he didn't protest at all – he clutched at her shirt and kept quiet. His own instinct was telling him that the more silent they were, the better the chance was for them to get away. And that's just what he did – his eyes clamped shut as the wind hit his face, inside all he could think about was how _unfair_ the entire situation was!

 

_Mommy didn't deserve this – that man was UNFAIR!_

_If only he could teach the man a lesson. If only he knew what to do! But he could hardly even walk – how could he stand a chance with this big bad man? Oh, if only his body were CAPABLE!_

If Bulma hadn't been so out of breath from trying to outrun Rikuto she would have been whispering comforting words to her son. She could hear the man's feet racing after her. He sounded as if he were still far away, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up to them. She needed to find a way to get out of his trail of sight long enough that she could pull the capsule from her bag and escape...

 _Her bag!_ She'd forgotten about her _bag!_ It was bouncing frantically, slapping her in the back as she ran. She was sure that papers were flying out of it through her struggles, but she was so glad to realize that it was still thrown over her shoulder!

Ahead Bulma could see a turn quickly approaching. This was going to be her only chance – she had to turn around that corner and find something to hide behind before he caught up to it. At least, she hoped there would be something to hide with. _For the love of Kami, please let this work!_ It didn't feel possible, but Bulma managed to pick up her pace. Her breath racing, the valves in her heart thudding so hard she could hear them in her ears...

Within a couple of seconds Bulma had approached the corner and turned, running blindly towards whatever was around the bend...

… She stopped in her tracks.

"No!" She breathed. 100 meters ahead was a brick wall. The side of a building, it sported a large poster that was advertising a cheap apartment. There was no object, not even a trash bin, for Bulma to try and take cover behind. It would only be a matter of seconds before the man turned the corner after her, and then she'd be done for. With only one thing left to hope for, Bulma threw her hand into her bag. So many contents had blown out while she'd been running, yet there was still so much to fish around in order to find her capsule – _if it was even still there!_ If it hadn't fallen out during her struggle!

 _‘Oh please_.’ She thought desperately. ‘ ** _Please_** _let it be in here!’_

She could hear his footsteps coming closer as she frisked about the bag. She let out a frustrated groan, her fingers scratching the bottom of the parcel, and suddenly they came into contact with the capsule. She was terrified, her limbs trembling, but she was _so_ relieved to feel that it was still there. Within a split-second had was throwing it out ahead, running for the helicopter before it had even completely formed.

Her body was shaking violently from the fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins, so much so that she had a hard time clasping the door to the vehicle. ‘ _Get it together, damnit!’_ She thought, her ears ringing. It was as if she couldn't get her digits to work - they didn't _want_ to wrap around the door handle. They _couldn't!_

It was then that she felt a tug at her shoulder.

"Bitch!"

Bulma could feel the spray of his saliva hitting the back of her neck as he snarled. Her eyes widened, her heart dropped, and suddenly she knew that she was completely out of options. She had been so close. _So close!_ But she hadn't been quick enough. There was nowhere else to go, and there was no _way_ this man would let her even attempt to open the door to the helicopter. _Why would he?!_ She'd _just_ managed to get her fingers to wrap around the handle. And she stood still, clasping at the door, unable to pull the knob.

 _So close_ she had been, _so close_ to freedom. If only her hand hadn't been shaking so hard and she'd been able to properly open the door. If only it hadn't taken so long to find the capsule in her bag. If only she'd had a little more time. She'd been _so close_ to her escape, and yet she was now utterly and completely cornered.

Trunks instantly began to scream. He wasn't crying, but he was audibly trying to warn the man away, frustrated that he didn't yet know how to form words. If only he could fight in the way that he'd seen _daddy_ train in the ship. If only he could pay this man back! Baby Trunks had been frightened by the situation, but not as much as he had been enraged. _That man was hurting his mommy._ That man was a _bad_ man... _He had no right to treat mommy like that!_

Bulma turned quickly, hoping her sudden movement would break Rikuto's grip on her shirt. Her back was against the door of the helicopter now, Rikuto directly in front of her. He stepped back to get a better look. "I've got you!" He let out a husky laugh. "There's nowhere left to run, you little _whore_."

Bulma's lip trembled. She silently hugged Trunks closer, the baby still screaming and waving his arms.

"The brat's loud!" Rikuto continued, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of Trunks' yells. "I'm gonna have to shut him up! He's worth a decent chunk of cash, but not if his crying is gonna get us found!"

It was in that instant that Bulma began to feel light headed. She quite literally had her back against the wall - there was no other possible outlet for escape. Exhausted and terrified, the Bluehead slowly began to accept her fate. Rikuto was in the process of detailing where he was going to take her to, what he was going to do to _her and Trunks_ , and what more could even happen if she didn't oblige with his demands... She was feeling dizzy, only comprehending every other word that the man spoke... _The expression on his face gave her no doubt that he was being serious_... She hugged her baby close, mentally promising that she would sacrifice herself before letting this man touch her boy.

"You owe me for kicking me earlier... " Rikuto was now saying. He let out another husky laugh, and a second later the palm of his hand was coming into contact with her cheek. It stung, but the Bluehead was feeling so numb with shock that she hardly felt it, and she didn't even flinch.

In fact, she hardly noticed the blow at all, for her mind was trailing with melancholy. She felt the stranger grab at her wrist, as if to emphasize the points he was making, but she was too distracted by her own thoughts to fight him away. Resisting anymore was going to be ineffective – not when she had no means of escape. _She couldn't believe that, after everything she'd encountered and seen, **this** was going to be her downfall. _This man - this simple human man, _he_ was the person who was going to do it. All of the horror stories she'd seen on the news throughout her years, all of the tragic cases of stolen lives, and _she_ was going to wind up as another statistic. There was a chance that perhaps someone might come and save her after she was taken to this stranger's hideout. But when would that be? The man's plans were gruesome, yet they also seemed to change with every other word he said. There really was no telling _what_ he was going to do, or how long he would _really_ wait before doing it? It probably wouldn't be until at least the morning before anyone even realized she was missing, and that was more than enough time for this crazy predator to inflict a number of offenses on her and _Trunks_.

She could feel Trunks slamming his hand down over Rikuto's forearm in effort to get him to let go of his _mommy_ , and she heard as the man cursed from the recoil. He yelled a few offensive words about the " _brat_ " and grabbed Bulma's wrist once more, giving it a sharp tug as if to warn the baby not to do it again.

 _Oh, why did Trunks have to be unlucky enough to be with her at this time?_ The biggest regret she had at that moment was that she'd chosen to go out with him instead of just staying home. He didn't deserve such a thing, he'd had no choice in the matter! Bulma had _failed_ Trunks - she was his _mother_! She should have told Misuki to go _fuck herself_ instead of taking her son out to meet with the snobby planner. Bulma was his _caretaker_ , and she'd doomed him to the same hopeless fate that she was sure to meet. All because she hadn't fulfilled her responsibility as a mother to make safe decisions for him – and now her baby was going to _suffer_.

...She'd failed him...

...She felt alone, _so alone._ And as the Bluehead reflected on how she was certain her night was going to end, she thought sadly of her recent past. She'd wasted so much time in recent months feeling anxious, depressed, bitter, and angry. And now, in retrospect, it all seemed so pointless. That was all such _precious time_ that she had wasted focusing on the wrong things, despite how hard she'd tried not to. If only Bulma could have the chance, she'd go back and redo it all.

At that precise moment, more than anything else, she wished she could be with _him._

_Vegeta._

_…_ How badly she wanted to be with him at that moment. By _his_ side, where she _always_ felt safe. She thought of his eyes, and of how firm his chest felt when she sank into it, and she deeply regretted all of the recent times in which she'd stubbornly been angry at him. Hell, even when she was _pissed_ with Vegeta, by his side she _always_ felt as if no harm could possibly be done to her. She'd wasted her time – _wasted_ it! When she could have been appreciating his company instead.

...And now she was going to perish, never to see him or feel his arms again...

"Vegeta..." She breathed, her eyes welling as Rikuto's fingers dug into her wrist even deeper. Her skin was stinging from his nails, and it was enough to snap her out of her thoughts.

"What did you just say?" The man was asking, looking almost amused. Clearly he didn't understand that _Vegeta_ was a name, and he most likely thought she was speaking incoherently from the tense on the situation. Bulma didn't reply - she vaguely thought she could feel some sort of heat accumulating in the distance. _Perhaps she was making it up?_ The Bluehead blinked. She could have sworn she'd seen something out of the corner of her eye, but her mind was probably playing tricks on her. She _was_ pretty stressed out, after all...

"Are you going to, _or not_?" Rikuto was spewing. Bulma had no idea what he was asking her. She hadn't been paying attention to any of the things he'd just said, and her eyes widened.

_What was he wanting her to do?_

_Was this **it**?_

And suddenly, it happened.

It happened so quickly, and there wasn't any time to register the following chain of events. In a moment Trunks was swatting his little fist at Rikuto again, slamming it into the man's chin. It was enough force to knock him back. Rikuto grabbed his face, backing away and fighting to keep his balance. In turn it put about a meter of distance between him and Bulma.

Whatever heat the Bluehead had felt was growing in temperature. And in that moment, with Rikuto a safe meter away from her, she saw a flash.

_Her pupils constricted as a bright beam appeared right in front of her face._

Rikuto, who was still holding his face in pain, didn't have enough time to even turn his head. The beam collided with his body, pulling him off his feet and throwing him back. The sound of his yell could be heard growing distant as the blast blew him away. Bulma watched, her mouth dropped open, as the beam of energy dragged the man about 100 meters until he crashed against a brick wall.

A second later she could see him – _his_ body rushing past her own as he flew towards Rikuto's figure. She could see the golden-spikes of his hair, hear the flare in his voice, but she was so shocked by the situation that none of it was registering in her mind. She simply stared, her mouth hanging open, as Vegeta stood over Rikuto's body and turned towards her. "Take the boy and go!" He was shouting, but Bulma didn't budge.

.

Vegeta had still been fighting with himself in the forest, ignoring the fact that night-time had fallen long ago. He was in the middle of yet _another_ power up when he felt it – _her ki._ He was used to her ki flaring at random moments – _she did have quite the hot head –_ but this was different. He'd never felt it pulsate quite like this before. And what more, _the boy's was flaring too._ The saiyan made no hesitation when he took off into the sky. The boy's was skyrocketing, growing stronger with each passing second. He had to admit that he was impressed by the level of his son's power, but nevertheless he was concerned.

_Something was wrong._

_Something was incredibly wrong._

He could feel it. Bulma's ki had initially spiked, but it was now steadily decreasing. Whatever was going happening, she was physically exerting herself, and her energy was consequently draining - and fast. _They were in danger._

It only took about 10 minutes, but to Vegeta it seemed like an unacceptable eternity. Questions were trailing through his mind during the flight - _Why were they in the city? Especially at this hour?_ He'd been zeroed in on her ki as he approached, and from kilometers away he could both feel and hear as Rikuto slapped her across the face - _the nerve!_ He didn't even think about it – a cloud of fire erupted around him as he instantly powered into super saiyan. His speed soaring with his new strength, he flew towards the alley quicker than he thought possible. As Vegeta got nearer he could hear Rikuto detailing certain things he wanted from Bulma - _vulgar things_. The saiyan didn't think it was possible for his rage to grow even stronger, but it did. His initial instinct was to charge Rikuto from behind, yank him away from Bulma, and slam him against the side of the building. But before he could _even act_ on this, closing in on the scene, he witnessed his own son punching the crook away. The boy did good – knocking him directly in the jaw and pushing him back. The consequential gap that had been made between Rikuto and Bulma was just enough that Vegeta could blast him away without risk of hurting his kin along with it, and the saiyan acted on this opportunity.

Now he was standing beside Rikuto's body, and he was yelling for his woman to flee. But she wasn't listening...

_Why wasn't she listening?!_

_Bulma was just watching him!_

She stood, her eyes round with shock, her brain still racing to register what had just occurred. She was still feeling dizzy – _still_ overwhelmed by everything happening, and she was frozen in place. Only a second earlier she'd been grimly accepting her fate, simply wishing that there was _something_ she could do to spare Trunks. Her wrist was _still_ hot and stinging from where Rikuto scratched it. How could things have changed so quickly?

Was this a hallucination?

...Was that _Vegeta_ standing in front of her? Her head was spinning now, and her vision was blurring. This was too much. This was just _too_ much to take. She had the sensation that she was being dragged down into a tunnel – though her eyes were still wide open, they were losing to ability to sense light. Everything was fading away - everything was growing darker. ‘ _Was she about to faint_?’ The Bluehead wondered lazily. Her body was losing its own capability to hold her weight, and she found that she hardly cared as her knees began to sway. ‘ _Was this how Chi-Chi would always feel before fainting?’_

Rikuto, his limbs trembling, was struggling to push himself back up to his feet. He let out an excruciating cry, thinking that his legs must surely both be broken. Vegeta watched this creature in front of him, who scratched the cold concrete that he was laying on. The saiyan was more than surprised that this _pest_ hadn't been rendered unconscious from the impact of his beam – _but then again,_ he _had_ held back on purpose...

...He hadn’t wanted to **kill** Rikuto with his blast... Rikuto couldn't die - at least, not yet. _Vegeta was intending to rip him apart with his own hands, shred by shred_... And how _dare_ the fiend find the audacity to call out in pain after everything he'd been attempting to pull?! Oh, the saiyan _couldn't wait_ to take care of this _asshole._ He could _feel_ his primal instincts taking charge. But he fought to prolong this urge. He didn't want Bulma to see him lose himself to the bloodlust. He needed to hold off just long enough for her to leave.

It was a struggle that he was quickly losing – he could feel as his pupils dilated. His vision was changing - everything was turning red.

 _Blood_.

"Idiot!" He snarled, looking back up at the woman, his biceps pulsing. "Don't just stand there!" Foam spewing from his mouth, the barrel in his voice was enough to _finally_ snap Bulma out of her haze. She shook, the light coming back into her eyes. The blank expression on her face quickly faded away, and the glow of determination rose back up in her cheeks. Her mind working once more, her vision no longer blurred, she held Trunks tighter and locked eyes with the saiyan.

_Vegeta._

That was right! It _was_ true! Her fate had been changed, thanks to her son and the man standing in front of her!

" **Get** **out of here!** " Vegeta was bellowing as his voice cracked, and she jumped to action.

She wasn't sure how many times he'd already said this, but he wasn't going to have to repeat himself again. She turned and threw open the door to the helicopter, her hands no longer shaking. A second later she and Trunks were safe inside the vehicle, and she took no hesitation to slam her hand onto the ignition. " _Go, go, go_!" She was chanting. The helicopter obliged, and when Bulma heard the sound of the blade beginning to rotate she let out a choked gasp of relief. "Yes... yes!" She breathed, tears welling in her eyes. She could feel the vehicle lifting into the sky, and she could hardly believe it. _They were safe. There were going home!_

Trunks was still being hugged into his mother’s chest, though her celebrations did little to appease his anger. All he could think of in that moment was how envious he was of _daddy_ to have been able to jump in and save the night. He wished _he_ could have been the one to seek revenge... He wanted to be alongside his father, making _that man_ pay... How lucky daddy was, indeed...

.

...Down below the rising helicopter stood Vegeta, his muscles shaking as the ape that had long been dormant inside awakened. He let out a deep roar, his chest heaving as his mind began to slip. Vegeta was glad that Bulma was leaving - he hadn't wanted her to witness what was about to unfold. It wasn't that he was ashamed – he was _far_ from it. It was the inhumanity – the utter and primitive instinct to kill, with no holding back. Once he commenced this indulgence, there would _be_ no stopping. Perhaps it would frighten her. She'd endured enough that night – she didn't need to see this as well. But with Bulma now flying away, he was completely free to let the beast loose. Ever since his tail had been cut off, Vegeta hadn't been able to take on the physical form of the ape. Yet the spirit was still there, deep inside, and it was now animating itself – taking charge to the point the he lost all ability to think clearly. The only color he could see was red, the domesticated side of Vegeta now gone.

_He hadn't done something like this in a very long time..._

_This was going to feel **good**..._

He turned to Rikuto, steam flaring from his nostrils. When the saiyan opened his mouth there were no words that came out – only a primitive yell. He'd long lost the care to maintain a vocabulary. There was going to be no need for it tonight. Only one thing was on his mind, and he wasn't going to stop until the need had been satisfied. Vegeta bent down and lifted Rikuto, pulling him up to his feet so he could glare into the deviant's eyes.

"Auh!" Rikuto howled, his broken legs twisting in pain. "Pl-Pleasse! I wasn't gonna do anything! _She started it!"_

The saiyan didn't respond, relishing in this man's fear. He could _smell_ it, and the odor was incredibly sweet. How pathetic the man was acting, whimpering and crying like the little coward he _was._

"I was just payin' her back, and then I was gonna leave! I swear - come on, buddy!" Rikuto was now howling. "Lemme go - please! She's the one who hurt me! Sh-She... She kicked below the belt! _You know how that is, man! I was just getting a little payback, man! PLEASE!"_

While Vegeta normally would have found the image of Bulma punting this fiend in the crotch amusing, in that moment he didn't care. Rikuto's pleads were becoming less satisfying with each moment that passed - it was time to get to business. He lifted his arm to hold Rikuto high in the air, his body dangling as he cried. There was only one thought - one word - that was crossing the saiyan's mind.

 


	22. Remorse

With a thud the helicopter landed on the grass of the Briefs property. Bulma shut off the ignition, taking a deep breath as the engine slowed to a halt and silence fell over the vehicle. In her lap was Trunks, who had fallen asleep during their flight. The helicopter was dark, the baby's face being illuminated by the moon in the sky. Bulma smiled down at her son, feeling weak under the weight of what had just happened to them.

 

Kicking the door open, the Bluehead stepped out with him cradled in her arms. The night was silent, a slight breeze blowing her hair back as she took in her surroundings. She hated to admit it, but she was scared to be standing alone in the dark after what just occurred. She felt vulnerable and paranoid, glancing over her shoulder to make sure nobody was going to jump out at her. Deciding it was safe, Bulma broke into a speed walk, approaching her house as quickly as she could manage without waking the boy. How relieving it felt to throw the lock when she stepped into the dark building and shut the door behind!

The house was dim and empty – her parents still being out of town until the following evening. Bulma was somewhat happy about this, not wanting to have to answer any of her mother's prying questions about her night. It was nice, in that sense, to know that she would have several hours to cope and pull herself together. Despite this she was feeling distraught. She didn't want to be bothered by _anybody_ , and yet she didn't want to be _alone_. Simply walking through the dark house was enough to test her nerves, and she couldn't help but to feel on edge as she scurried up the stairs.

.

Not much time has passed when Vegeta stepped into her bedroom. His long sleeved shirt was covered in dirt, but otherwise unscathed. Humans were so _weak –_ they stood no chance against him. Rikuto's punishment required no struggle on Vegeta's part, and as a result he'd managed to stay relatively clean. He gazed through the room to see Bulma sitting on her bed, Trunks asleep by her side. She was stroking a hand through her son's lavender hair, silently attempting to apologize for how she'd endangered him. She didn't look up to greet the saiyan as he stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the dozing boy. How much time had passed since she'd arrived back at home, it was hard to be certain. And while her body lacked energy, her mind was too distracted to sleep.

She heard his boots as he crossed the floor, stopping at the side of the bed to stand over her. The Bluehead squeezed her son's little hand, her face dropping even more to avoid the saiyan's gaze. She didn't want to look up at him, unsure of what to do or say. She didn't know what Vegeta was thinking, but her worst fear was that it was shame. Vegeta was a man who craved vigor – he took great pride in the ability to fight and defend one's self. This was a man who had spent countless hours of his life perfecting his physical capabilities in preparation to ward of any enemy - and what was _she?_

_She hadn't even been able to protect their son._

_How pathetic she must be in his eyes..._

"Woman," His voice monotone, she felt a rough palm brushing against the top of her head.

Her first instinct was to take in a sharp breath. Her scalp was still throbbing from when Rikuto had been yanking her hair during their fight, and she could feel the blood pulsing through the top of her head from being touched. She fought the urge to slap his hand away, quivering under his fingers.

Vegeta noticed her tense reaction – was it _injury?_ He quickly pulled his hand back to his side, watching as her body relaxed once more.

"Woman." He repeated, his voice neither soft nor harsh. "Look at me."

She did as he asked, but she took her time in turning around. And after what seemed like an eternity, she was finally peering up at him. She was almost relieved – in his eyes she saw no shame. In fact, she hardly saw anything in them at all. Just cold orbs, gazing over hers, glazing over her body.

Vegeta was surprised to see that her eye was sporting a dark hue, a bruise that was actively forming. Her lower lip was somewhat swollen – either from a hit, or perhaps she'd bitten it herself? Her hair was a mess, dirt caked on her skin. She apparently hadn't done much to clean herself up after getting home – she hadn't even changed out of her clothes yet.

The saiyan felt anger well up in his gut, but it wasn't as strong as it had once been. The bloodlust in his core had already been satisfied, and in this current moment there was nothing more to do to Rikuto Kubo. Revenge had already been served. Yet inside there was something else. Vegeta had encountered similar feelings when he would see his woman distraught or crying – but _this? This_ was more intense than anything he'd ever encountered before, and he wasn't prepared.

There had been so many times that he or one of his comrades had been injured during battle. That was just a part of _it_. It was inevitable that some type of cut or scrape would be acquired during a fight, and it was something that one was expected to just _suck up and deal with_. In the past he could remember mocking Raditz for complaining about a considerable plate-shaped wound. Raditz had obtained it during battle with a rather unruly bandit from the red planet to the East. Vegeta had shown no mercy in ridiculing him to the point that Raditz refused to show himself for several days. Vegeta once worked alongside a militant that had his leg ripped off during a fight. And did that man whine about it? No – he'd continued on as if nothing had happened. There was nothing else to do but move on with any scars and wear them as a badge of honor!

But, a wound on _his_ _woman_? She wasn't conditioned to battle! She was too soft – _too fragile –_ such things just didn't suit her! Whatever emotions he was grappling with inside, they began to reflect in his pupils. Bulma noticed this, for a light began to flicker in his once-cold eyes. And she was surprised by just how alleviating it was to see such an expression on his face. She could feel her own defenses subsiding. Without speaking a word she stood from the bed, careful not to wake her sleeping child with her movements. Vegeta stepped back to give her space, and he looked over her body once more with this new angle. Her left wrist was a deep hue of blue and red, finger shaped prints left embedded into her skin from where Rikuto had gripped her.

Silently Bulma bent over her son, lifting him into her arms. Holding her head high, she passed by the saiyan as she made her way towards the door. He watched as she went, assuming that she was taking Trunks to his crib. And his theory was not proven to be wrong when she returned moments later empty-armed.

She walked back into her bedroom looking much more helpless than she had when she'd left. Delayed emotions she'd been avoiding all night were finally catching up to her. Shoulders slouched, cheeks strained from the deep scowl that was plastered on her face, she stood in the doorway. The house rang with silence as the two locked eyes. They were each waiting for the other to speak. Vegeta didn't want to break the silence. It wasn't his place. He could see as the dread on her face grew stronger, her blue orbs studying his dark eyes. But he refused to speak.

In this moment her needs were the priority.

Finally, after several minutes, the silence was broken.

"Go ahead."

The saiyan's expression did not change. "What?" He replied, not missing a beat. He was standing, his back straight. He took the situation seriously, handling it as if he were reporting to a commander. He would do whatever she required in that moment. All he needed to know was _what_ it was that she wanted.

Bulma took in a large breath, gulping down her air before exhaling a deep sigh. "Go _ahead_ ," She repeated, her voice trembling this time. "Say what you will. I deserve it, don't I?"

This was when the robotic demeaner that Vegeta had taken finally ceased. He raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised by her body words. He'd been considering _her_ needs as priority, and it seemed as if she were doing the same in return. She looked at him as if she were an unruly deviant who awaited repercussion – as if _she'd_ done something wrong! And he truly hadn't been expecting it.

"I know I let him down. I couldn't even protect him," She continued. "So, go ahead... Tell me that I'm a failure, just go ahead..."

How peculiar the human race was. What a weak species of mortals they were, unaccustomed and unprepared to endure any type of physical excursion. And yet they experienced the guilt that saiyans did when losing battle? When a saiyan won a fight it was the most exhilarating sensation one could live. Much like an orgasm, the bliss of defeat would boil through the saiyan's veins and rattle down their spine – an addictive pleasure to say the least. And when a battle was lost it was the most humiliating and shameful experience, one that would haunt them for days – sometimes to the point that the saiyan could never show their face again. Was Bulma encountering a similar feeling at this moment? Despite the fact that she wasn't even _bred_ to brawl? Why should she have such a post-loss dishonor?

"Woman," He breathed, his eyes widening. Why - she was _crying_ now! Complete and utter tears! But what in the world would she have to feel such disgrace about? She'd been savagely attacked! It'd been completely unprovoked and absolutely un-warranted! She hadn't even been given the dignity of having both hands free to defend herself with! It was long established in saiyan culture that anyone who _dared_ to touch the kin of royalty would be slaughtered – so what fault was it of hers that some _fool_ had chosen to assault her?! How could she find such fault with _herself_ over the matter?

Bulma now had her palms cupped over her face, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed into her hands. How many times Vegeta had seen her cry, and never before had it been quite like this. She wasn't angrily sobbing obscenities at him or bawling as loud as her lungs were capable. No, she was weeping softly into her hands, sniffling profusely as she let out the saddest series of whimpers he'd ever heard. The sensation boiling in his stomach had never been so strong, the desire to console overwhelming. He made his way for her, outstretching his arms and pulling her into his chest. She reacted by falling into him as if she'd lost the capacity to stand, wrapping her arms around to his back, pressing her cheek into his pectoral muscle. She let out another sharp sniffle.

"Woman," He whispered, hoping that Trunks wouldn't be woken up by their exchange. "Don't weep. You did no wrong."

"I couldn't protect him," She sobbed, her voice muffled by his chest. "I – I shouldn't have been there. I put him in danger, and if anything had happened to him, I - I.."

"You didn't put anyone in danger" Vegeta interrupted, his voice stern, hoping to put a stop to her self-deprecation. "You were alone and he thought you were an easy target - don't consider it a personal fault that he chose to take advantage of you."

His words seemed to have an impact, because he could feel the trembles of her sobs growing less strong. She pulled her face from his chest to look him in the eyes, her cheeks swollen from her tears. Her eyes were round, caught off guard by the non-accusatory turn the conversation just took. "Is that just bullshit you're saying to make me feel better?" She breathed.

A slight smirk was forming at his lips – what vulgar language she could have! "Am I known to sugarcoat?" He replied bluntly. "You can't fault yourself for some fool's haste decision. He saw you were at a disadvantage and chose to strike. That makes him a coward. You did not ask for it, and you still put up a good fight. You didn't hear because you'd left, but the man told me you kicked him. He was _crying_ about it. Imagine that, woman."

Her tears were completely dry now. "You came to help us." She commented, as if she'd only just realized that Vegeta had intervened with Rikuto's attack.

"I sensed your ki flare from the moment it started. The boy's was growing stronger than I'd ever felt before. I knew something was the matter, and I followed it as soon as I sensed it. It only took about 10 minutes for me to arrive, but 10 minutes is a long time during battle." Gently he pulled his hand up, brushing his knuckle across her face, gesturing at the bruise under her eye. "I take responsibility for the damage he inflicted."

Bulma grabbed his hand, pulling it down from her head. "No, don't apologize," She was nearly smiling now, her eyes locked with his. "You _saved_ us. If you hadn't intervened, he would have-"

"Nevermind about that." Vegeta interrupted again. He took this moment to place his hands on her shoulders, gripping them firmly to prevent her from continuing with her words. She didn't need to detail what _could_ have happened. She didn't need to concern herself with it. " _You_ are my kin." Thumbs massaging her skin, hoping that his point would resonate with her. "It is my _duty_. I will _always_ protect you. I regret that I could not be there sooner. I take responsibility for the pain he inflicted before my arrival."

He'd told her this before, but this time it felt different. He'd done it – he'd really _protected_ her. Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, overwhelmed. In that moment Bulma felt such a weight being lifted from her shoulders - one that she'd been subconsciously carrying with her for quite some time. She'd realized during the assault just how foolish she had been to focus so much on the negatives when it came to Vegeta. It'd been her way of defending herself, not wanting him to inflict any more emotional hurt than he already had. But she'd realized she didn't want to do that anymore - and his recent words did nothing but add to her epiphany. All of the insecurities and harbored resentment seemed to fade in an instant, and she wrapped her arms around the saiyan to sink into his chest once more, sniffling with relief.

It was strange, Vegeta had been trying to get on her good side ever since the day that the Teenaged Trunks had returned to the future. What more, ever since the saiyan had witnessed that man attacking her, all Vegeta wanted was to see her. All he could think of during the flight back to the Briefs residence was how much he wanted to have Bulma near, to make sure she was alright. There was an intense desire to hold her tight - an instinct within that told him to protect and comfort the one who was his mate. Yet, what Vegeta wasn't accustomed to, was his desire to be **_close_** to Bulma - to rub skin with her - and _not_ in a lust-fueled way. Sex was not the ultimate goal with this encounter. He _just_ wanted to press her body firmly against his - as if to verify their presence. To verify that she was _alive._ She was still sobbing into his chest, and he held her even tighter. His face dropped to brush against her hair, and softly he reminded her that she was safe.

Bulma turned to look up into Vegeta's face. Her night had been hell, but she couldn't have asked for anything more in that moment. When Rikuto had caught her near her helicopter her mind had been stuck on Vegeta, craving nothing more than to feel the warmth of his embrace. She had truly believed she'd never encounter it again. Yet here she now stood, safe and warm, with a man who made her truly feel that what had happened hadn't been her fault...

_He didn't blame her..._

"You're smiling again." Vegeta noted out loud, bringing Bulma out of her daze. She could feel, with dismay, as his grip around her loosened. "You need to get some rest."

The saiyan had had a sobering moment when he'd seen the relief on her face. He needed to give her space. He'd done his part in protecting and comforting her. And he was losing the grip he typically had over his own emotions. Before this night she'd been making a point to keep her distance from him, and Vegeta had no intention of using the situation to impose himself on her. Perhaps she required comfort, but was it _really_ what she'd want if her emotions weren't in such a state? He wanted to respect her – he didn't want to overstep a boundary. But as he made to step back, Bulma grabbed his forearm. "Wait," She breathed. Vegeta stood, his eyes fixed on hers.

"Please," She whispered, as if she understood why he'd made to leave. "Stay with me."

Vegeta's eyes widened, and his posture softened.

Bulma's fingers loosened their grip around his arm, sliding down to his hand. She held it, her fingers interlacing with his own. The saiyan looked to his hand as she did this – _had they ever held hands before? No,_ never before had they engaged in a gesture such as this. Never before had he felt such a sensation. Her soft digits intertwining with his rough calluses, a sensation unlike anything else he knew. Bulma turned then, giving his arm a light tug as she gestured him to go with her. He followed obediently, and when she stopped at the foot of the bed she turned to face him once more.

A moment later her arms were wrapped around him again, her face pressed against his chest. Vegeta returned the embrace, though his grip wasn't as firm as it'd once been. Her behavior was so sudden – such a contrast to how he'd grown used to her acting towards him. How many times in recent past had she yelled at him, told him that she could _never_ trust him, could _never_ be with him? This just didn't feel right! He stepped back, and she looked up into his eyes questioningly. "Woman, you're vulnerable right now." He couldn't help but think that she wasn't in her correct state of mind. Perhaps she was still in shock from everything.

This just wasn't right.

The Bluehead was quiet as his words sank in. _He **really** was concerned for her, wasn't he? _She was slightly dejected by his suddenly distant demeanor. But she also couldn't help but to appreciate it. He was acting in a manner that respected her previous desire to keep her distance from him. He was trying to abide by that. He didn't know of the epiphany she'd made in the dark alley. He wasn't aware that she'd already decided not to fight with him anymore. She'd always desired him, and she was tired of denying herself. He felt that he'd already done his part in saving her, but she _needed_ more. She stepped towards him again, falling back into their embrace. This time Vegeta held onto her waist hesitantly, as if he were worried that if she got too close he'd lose the capability to resist. Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close so she could whisper in his ear. " _Please don't leave. I don't want to be alone tonight. I want **you**."_

It didn't take much more convincing for him to oblige. He was pleased with her confession, the desire inside to hold her close still rampant. He curled his arms around her waist, pulling her closer into his chest. If his woman didn't want to fall asleep alone, then he was going to keep her company. There was something about the way that she fell into his arms, clinging to him as if his body was only thing keeping her from falling to the ground, and he couldn't help but to plant an assuring kiss on the top of her head – which he noted that she didn't resist.

He'd seen it coming. He'd given her his last warning. And now there would never be a separation between them again. There was going to be no turning back from this moment. Not even if she woke the next morning and asked him to leave. He couldn't – he wouldn't – not after tonight. _He could never leave her alone, not ever again..._

He had to admit that there was something internally satisfying about having her so near, feeling the soft of her skin easing against his chest as she nuzzled her face into the arch of his neck. To squeeze her against him. Just as he'd desired, he held her tight, as if to validate her presence. As if to remind her that she was _okay_ , she was _strong_. If anything had happened to her – anything damaging or _permanent –_ he didn't know what he'd do... But he'd found her just in time. She was well, she was alive, and she would always be _his.._

 _.._ And as the two fell into the bed, with Bulma curling up against him and planting a kiss on his cheek, there was not another place they could have imagined being. She didn't want to let go of him. She didn't want him to leave. After relishing in how warm and secure it felt to be held, Bulma didn't think she'd be able to fall asleep if he got up and left. If he walked away now, he'd leave an empty void. She looked up at his face as if to read his thoughts, and the expression in his eyes was enough to assure her that he was thinking the same thing. _He wasn't going anywhere._ She gave him a weak smile, her head growing heavy with fatigue. "Turn out the light," she whispered lightly. Vegeta, intoxicated with his own yearnings, didn't need to be told twice. With a click of the table-side lamp, the two were suddenly enveloped by total darkness, relying on their sense of touch to keep them aware of their surroundings.

Vegeta noted how oddly tranquil it felt to have her so near, as she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and sank back against his skin. There was no consequential lust building within, despite the closeness of their bodies and the affectionate kisses she was planting against the lining of his jaw. No, there wasn't an ounce of lust inside – just the strong need to continue holding her tight, as she laid her head on his chest and nuzzled her cheek against it. And all that Vegeta could feel was Bulma, as the two cuddled in the dark. Her shoulder length hair, silky and straight, was still slightly damp from the sweat she'd shed during the assault she'd faced...

… Vegeta allowed his fingers to run through the cyan strands, noting each fiber as they brushed against his palm. And as he listened to the sounds of her breaths, growing deeper as she began to dream, the saiyan couldn't help but give her a soft peck on the spot he imagined was he forehead. How serene things were in that moment. Alone in the dark of this room, with his woman clutching at his shirt in her sleep. As he lay, eyes facing the ceiling that he could not see, the saiyan let out a deep sigh. Completely intoxicated by the strange sensation welling through his core, he slowly closed his eyes. Giving in to the ease that her body was gifting him, he began to succumb to his own fatigue.

 _Nothing_ , Vegeta thought, rubbing his rough palm across Bulma's shoulder. _There was nothing he would change about this interaction. This was where he needed to be. And what more, despite such an emotional moment that wasn't typical of his ego, there was none of that pride reminding him that he needed to remain tough or strong. He felt more masculine in that moment than he had in a very long time, and his guard had completely dissipated. With his woman by his side, this was exactly as things should be._

 _And the next morning_ when Vegeta opened his eyes he turned to see that Bulma was gone. For a moment he would have thought it'd all been a dream, but he was quickly sobered from such thoughts at the realization that he was laying in _her room._

"Fuck," He muttered, looking around to confirm that he was alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one! It was long and sappy, but I think we needed that. :) I tried to keep Vegeta's reaction appropriate considering the situation, but I also worked hard to keep him in character. I hope you felt the same, but please let me know what you thought about it!


	23. Bulma's Fury

Bulma let out a groan under her breath, stretching her legs as she made rounds about the lower level of the house. She'd fallen asleep quickly and readily - the night she had was exhausting, to say the least. And Vegeta's embrace was always so endearing, who wouldn't have wanted to fall asleep nestled in arms such as his? Yet her injuries proved to win over her fatigue, the pain awakening her and dragging her from bed.

 

What else could she have done?

It was hard to sleep. The tightness she felt in her skin as it stretched with swelling was nearly unbearable. She'd seen herself in the mirror – her delicate features having transformed drastically during those few hours she'd slept. Her head was pounding, her muscles ached, and so she stayed up for the rest of the night. Pacing about the house, Bulma massaged her temples as she waited for the ibuprofen she'd swallowed to take effect. She was trying hard to distract her mind from the discomfort that was coursing through her veins as she strolled up and down the hallways, yet she couldn't. She just _couldn't_ think of anything other than how upset she was growing by the minute.

Anger. Anger about her current predicament.

 _‘Damnit.’_ Bulma thought when she looked at a mirror again. She had a full blown black eye now, and her bottom lip was twice as large as it normally was. Bruises scattered about her cheeks, a scratch on her upper eyelid. ‘ _Look at what he did to me!’_ She thought bitterly as she scowled at her reflection. How dare that man disfigure her face – her _beautiful_ face!

She'd been through a lot over the course of the last 24 hours. Her psyche had violently clashed among several emotions, and it was becoming overwhelming. At one point, just a few hours earlier, she'd been fearing for her life – and had even come to terms with it ending. She'd gone from such a sure belief, to being rescued from that fate. She'd then gone to feeling ashamed and useless, blaming herself for the attack she and Trunks had faced. But the pep-talk she received from a certain saiyan had really done its work on her.

_It wasn't her fault._

Being told such a thing, especially by someone such as Vegeta, really helped to assure her insecurities. Vegeta was right – he was right, and she knew it. Now, instead of fear or remorse, she was seething with anger. It really wasn't her fault that this creep had done such things to her! And how _dare_ he do it?!

These thoughts haunted her mind as she continued her pace around the house. She'd attempted to watch a TV show, had attempted to read a magazine, but her mind was stubbornly focused on how angry she was about what had happened to her.

And so it felt like a blessing when she heard Trunks stirring in his crib – and she ran upstairs to fetch him before he had the chance to call out for her and wake Vegeta. But Trunks did little to soothe the ire building inside. And even as she now stood over his high chair, watching the child eat groggily, she could feel her core tightening with indignation.

_Her wrists were still stinging from where he'd scratched her._

_Her scalp still throbbing from how he'd pulled her._

_How._

_Dare._

_He._

"Woman."

Bulma looked up from her son, raising an eyebrow to see Vegeta standing in the doorway of the kitchen. At some point she had put her hand on her hip as she'd been thinking of her disgust with Rikuto. And she stood with it still there, looking defiant as she tiredly stretched a smile at the saiyan before her.

"Hey," She replied, surprised at how exhausted her own voice sounded when she spoke.

Vegeta was staring at her silently, presumably studying her condition. She looked a lot worse this morning than she had the night before, and she knew it. Bulma had no doubt that Vegeta was acknowledging this, his eyes trailing over her body. In another time she might have been self conscious to be presented to him in such a state, but she was too enraged to care. **_She_** _wasn't the one who had done this to her face, after all!_

Vegeta took a step forward, and his expression told her that he was considering his words as he crossed the room. Finally, after moments of silence, the saiyan finally settled with simply stating "you're up early".

Bulma would have widened her smile into a sarcastic chuckle, but her swollen cheeks were too pained for her to do so. "Couldn't sleep," She replied, turning to look back down at Trunks.

...At this point Trunks had finished his meal, and was staring up at Vegeta quietly.

There stood his father.

_Daddy._

Memories of the night before, the image of Daddy intervening and attacking that man who'd hurt mommy, flashed before the baby's eyes. Inside, when he looked at his father now, he felt nothing but pure respect for him. In his eyes, Daddy was nothing less of the ideal being. The aura of strength that radiated through each room he entered, the abilities he always exhibited.

Trunks wanted to be just like his Daddy. He wanted to have the capability to defend Mommy, just like Daddy had done.

It just didn't seem fair that his own little body wasn't yet capable of it _..._

"I was thinking of taking him to the park," Bulma announced, breaking Trunks from his thoughts. It was true – she really had been. Going out in public was the last thing she really wanted to do at the moment, but she was worried about her baby. Trunks had been serious and quiet all morning, and she had no doubts about where his mind currently was. She wanted for him to know that everything was going to be alright, to forget about the night before. As a mother, she just wanted him to feel safe - to have a sense of normalcy. Yet still, the idea of going to the park was the least desirable thing she could have wanted to do for herself. It always amazed her to realize just how selfless it truly was to be a mother - _how many times had she put herself through undesirable things for the sake of her baby?_

She looked up at Vegeta, swallowing awkwardly. She couldn't bring herself to admit it. She didn't want to ask, but...

Vegeta cleared his throat. "I'll escort you and the boy." He announced, crossing his arms sternly. He'd felt as her pulse tightened. It was clear that the idea of attending this park made her uncomfortable _,_ yet he understood her reasons as to why she decided to go. She didn't _need_ to explain. "Grab your things, and let's go."

...

Bulma hardly spoke at all during their outing. Not a single word escaped her lips as they made their way to the park. She walked alongside Vegeta, her shoulders tense and she hugged Trunks close. Even with Vegeta beside her, her thoughts were still stubbornly invaded by the man who'd put his hands on her the night before.

And, even as she pushed Trunks in the swing, her mind still on Rikuto. Vegeta stood meters away, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed as he waited for his kin to finish their activities. She knew that he was nearby, yet she was uneasy.

_Rikuto had approached her from behind when he'd made his move._

Bulma found herself turning to glance over her shoulder, paranoia ringing through her ears. _Fuck,_ she thought, turning back to her son just in time to give his swing another push. She recognized her own behavior, the distrustful urging in her pit that was telling her not to let her guard down – not even for a second.

 _‘He did this to me_.’ She thought bitterly. ‘ _How **dare** he put me in this state?’_

A gust of wind flared then, blowing her hair out behind her. Her throbbing skin stung as the air clapped against it, and she bit her lip with discomfort. Yet even _that_ hurt, having temporarily forgotten of her own mouth injury. She fought the urge to let out a frustrated scream. It seemed that everything she did brought her pain - an unpleasant reminder of the events of the night before. She felt trapped - _trapped_ in this uncomfortable body, and it was because of what some stranger had done!

Trunks hardly let out a squeal at the park – not even a soft coo to express his approval. And when Bulma decided that they'd spent enough time she made her way for Vegeta. He was still standing with his back against the tree, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were shut, seeming to be in thought. "Your family has returned." He announced, not bothering to open his eyes. "I can feel the blonde one – she's probably watering those plants she keeps in the yard."

Bulma didn't respond, feeling her heart sink. It was as if the morning couldn't get any worse - her parents had arrived several hours early! She wasn't ready to see them – not in her current state! She was struggling enough with her own emotions, the rage that was boiling inside, and she wasn't yet ready to handle the reaction that her parents would surely have. _She_ was the one who'd been attacked, hadn't she? She didn't feel ready to have to comfort her own mother over the matter! She let out a tired sigh, glancing up at Vegeta sadly.

This was when the saiyan finally opened one eye, taking a look at her expression. "If you don't wish to see them yet then we shall go to _my_ house."

When he said this Bulma let out another sigh, but this time it was from relief. Her eyes lighting up, she gave Vegeta yet another pained smile, and he stepped out from the tree to commence their walk home.

...

Vegeta wasn't used to how quiet Bulma had become. As he walked alongside her for the second time that day, she hardly spoke a single work. All morning her ki had been radiating, with sudden surges that would quickly dissipate. He didn't have to ask to know that inside she was processing what all had happened. She was rather beaten up, yet she didn't so much as utter a complaint about the aches she must have surely been encountering.

And when they arrived to his home he guided her through the front door, leading them into the sitting room. Bulma seemed rather uninterested in observing the design of the interior. She stood, her back turned to Vegeta, as she gazed down at her feet. Her head bowed, her face was hidden behind her hair as she clutched Trunks tight. Vegeta watched, and a moment later Bulma let out a low groan before slowly placing Trunks down on the floor. "Excuse me," She muttered, walking away from the two and disappearing deeper into the house.

Vegeta could feel her ki building as she made her way through the building alone, and he knew _something_ was about to happen. "She'd do better to stop feeling sorry for herself" The saiyan crossed his arms to look down at his son. Trunks returned the look, unsure of how to react. "Well, what do _you_ think, boy?" Vegeta croaked lowly. This was the first time he and his son had been alone together since the attack the night before. "Don't you decide that you are a victim. I expect you to take this as motivation to stop being so soft. Next time you'll be the one to defend her if I'm not around. Do you understand me, _boy?_ "

A light gleamed in the baby's eyes, and he shot his dad a knowing smirk. He couldn't explain it, but those words sank into a place so deep in his core that in that moment something within began to awaken. He really had been feeling somewhat discouraged in knowing that he hadn't been able to be the one to serve revenge to Rikuto, but next time things would surely be different. If only he knew how to properly form words, he would have made this promise to his Daddy.

Vegeta could feel Bulma's ki pulsing in the other room, and he let out a cuss under his breath. His suspicions were turning out to be true - something really _was_ about to happen. _"Stay put, boy."_ He warned. "I am going to check on your mother. Do _not_ move." And with that Vegeta disappeared into his house, just as Bulma had. He followed her ki through the rooms and down the hallway, until he found himself standing at the bathroom door. The door was closed tightly, and on the other side he could hear Bulma, who was mumbling curse words at a frantic pace.

He would have thought to respect her privacy, but he didn't exactly expect her to be doing anything _too_ vulgar on the other end of that door. This behavior was certainly not normal for her. That entire morning she'd been acting so distant, so uncharacteristically detached and silent - even with the boy. And now she was locked away in his own bathroom, gasping violently as her ki throbbed? What was she _doing?_

Vegeta felt uneasy. Perhaps she was crying again? But tears just didn't suit her!

He thought he'd made it clear the night before that what happened was the result of nothing more than Rikuto's cowardice. This way of behaving certainly wasn't the Bulma Briefs he'd grown to know over the last several years! Where was her hard backbone that she always leaned on?! Where was that fire that fueled her when she felt her honor had been defied? She needed to stop with this infernal self-pity! She needed to rise above such woes! Rikuto - that _scum_ \- how _dare_ he put royal kin in such a demeaned state!?

Without a moment of hesitation he kicked at the door, ready to confront her. He was prepared to see her tears and to address them, but what he saw instead took his breath away.

Bulma was not crying, as she stood over the sink and glared at herself in the mirror. Her shoulders were rising and falling as she fumed, heavy heaps of air escaping her lungs with each breath.

"Woman-" Vegeta gasped, his eyes widening.

Bulma, her back still turned to him, looked at his reflection in the mirror. "I couldn't take it _anymore!"_ She hissed, her jaw clenched.

Vegeta stepped back and leaned against the doorframe, taking the scene in as it unfolded.

Bulma let out a frustrated scream. In one of her hands she was squeezing a pair of scissors, and she angrily threw them to the ground. "This hair - this _fucking_ hair! It reminds me of _him!"_ She shouted, gripping the counter as she did so. Vegeta crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side as he watched. The scissors landed near his feet, and he nodded at them as if to acknowledge their contribution to his woman's sudden outburst. He was quite surprised, to be sure, but he was relieved by what he was seeing. Now, this - _this_ was the Bulma Briefs he'd come to expect.

"He used my own hair against me - he used it to pull me against my will! How _DARE HE!"_ She yelled, her ki growing with her screams. All of the frustration that had been building since the night before was finally being let out, and she was unable to stop herself. All she could think of was how _pissed_ she was, and she slammed a fist down over the counter. "Nobody is _ever_ going to do that to me _again!_ "

Vegeta felt a nudge at his leg, and he glanced down for a moment to see that Trunks had joined his side. The baby had used his father's leg as leverage to rise to his own feet, and he now stood beside Daddy as he watched his mother screaming at the mirror. "From now on I'm wearing my hair short - I won't have it long so someone else can think they can use that against me - not my own hair - not ever again!" She turned then, panting as she caught her breath from her own shouts.

She felt better - much better. Her hair, having previously been long enough to hang down past her shoulders, had been cut so that it now ended just at her chin. A mess of blue strands had been left in the sink, and she took in a gulp of air as she thought about what she'd just done. She'd worn a bob before in the past, but she wasn't used to having such short hair anymore. Suddenly her head was feeling weightless, the throbbing in her scalp easing in tension. Vegeta had locked his eyes with hers, and he continued to watch, his face expressionless.

His woman was standing before him, hands clenched into fists, her face battered and her arms bruised. He could see the heat in her eyes, the gleam in her pupils that seemed to dare _anyone_ to fuck with her. And as he looked over his woman, standing tall with her head high, her chest still heaving with the aftermath of her verbal explosion, he couldn't help but to think he had never been as attracted to her in all his life. ‘ _Godess,’_ Vegeta thought _. ‘She's a complete and absolutely powerful goddess.’_

The anger was slowly leaving her eyes, and she was still watching him as her shoulder' began to slowly drop. Her posture was relaxing, and her eyes began to soften.

"So," Vegeta said, pushing himself out from the door frame to stand up straight. "Do you feel better now?"

"Well," Bulma wiped at her face, clearing her eyes of a few tears that she hadn't realized had even fallen. "I don't know - I'm pissed."

"As you should be." The saiyan replied, nodding his approval.

"I'm getting hungry." Bulma stated dumbly, feeling somewhat blind-sided as she sobered from her own furiosity.

"As one becomes when they haven't eaten," Vegeta said, a smirk crossing his face. "Stay with the boy and I'll go catch us some lunch."

 


	24. Vegeta's House

* * *

 

Things really did feel better after Bulma's scene in the bathroom. As he promised, Vegeta left her and Trunks alone while he, falling back into his typical morning routine, set off in order to hunt for the day's meat. Left with his mother in the silent house, it didn't take long for Trunks to fall asleep. And Bulma, now alone and with nothing to do, decided to take a shower.

She hadn't bathed since her attack the night before, and the idea of scrubbing out any remaining loose hairs from the cut she'd given herself felt nearly liberating. The Bluehead strolled quietly through the home, and with her newly cleared head it felt as if she were now able to see it for the first time. ' _Funny_ ,' She thought. This house wasn't so strange after all. The color scheme of this new place was different – white tiled floors with thick blood red rugs stretched out over them, and drapes hanging over each window in a fashion to match the rugs. But the sitting room, the kitchen, the stairways – all of the rooms were stretched in a way that was nearly identical to her own home. Bulma found it amusing, thinking that this house had been modeled to replicate the Briefs residence. ' _See, Vegeta.'_ She thought smugly as she turned a corner and walked back into the same bathroom in which she'd chopped her hair into a bob. ' _Our place must not be **so** bad if you felt the need to copy it..._

One steaming shower (which involved quite a bit of wincing and pain as the water slapped against her bruises) later, Bulma stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her torso. She felt refreshed, her body lighter than ever, and she strolled down the hallway in search of the room which she assumed would be Vegeta's. Just as she expected, at the end of the hall she found the master bedroom. In her own home these quarters were occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Briefs, but in this new house it was taken by none other than the saiyan prince himself.

The bedroom had the same color scheme of deep red. A large king-sized bed lay in the center, the headboard being constructed out of some of the nicest looking wood that Bulma had ever seen – though, instead of brown, this wood was black. Adjacent to the bed was a large dresser, styled to match the bed, and Bulma passed this furniture as she made her way into the large closet that she knew this room would be equipped with. Sure enough she found it, and after rummaging through all of clothes that the saiyan had hanging up, she settled on a simple pair of sweatpants and a thin shirt. His clothes were loose, and they hung from her frame as if the fabric were attempting to reject her body, but Bulma persisted by pulling the drawstring of the pants as tightly around her waist as possible. She then pulled the shirt to tighten around her frame, holding it in place by tying the leftover fabric into a knot behind her back.

Feeling relaxed in a clean set of lounge clothes, and more feminine after her minor adjustments, Bulma made her way into the kitchen just in time to look out the window and see Vegeta landing in the backyard. He seemed to be focused on his task at hand, toting a large dead fish by its tail. She watched silently as Vegeta set the fish down in the grass and jumped above it, firing several blasts from his palm until it was cut almost perfectly into small pieces.

 _'Wow,'_ She thought, a slight smile spreading on her lips.

Within a moment Vegeta walked to a pile of sticks that were arranged in a designated spot in his yard. A blast from the palm later, and a fire had been started.

"So, _this_ is how he's been taking care of himself," The Bluehead commented. It was surprising that Vegeta had such a large and exquisite house built, and yet he chose to prepare his food camp-style in his own backyard. Now that she thought of it, Bulma turned and began to look around the kitchen. It was to no surprise that the kitchen, open and wide, was nearly a mirror of her own. The main difference she spotted was that Vegeta seemed to have requested that his countertops be lined with marble, which sported a soft blue hue that seemed to illuminate when the sunlight hit it. The other difference between the kitchen in the Briefs' residence and the one that Bulma was now standing in was that Vegeta's had seemingly no cooking utensils.

_Interesting._

She walked to a cabinet and slid the door open. Inside it was bare.

_Well, what use would he have for pots and pans when he prepares everything with campfire?_

She walked to the refrigerator and pulled the doors open, letting out a soft giggle. Not a single item had been placed on the shelf – not even milk.

_What use does he have for groceries when he either catches everything he eats, or he shows up at my place to share some of my mom's cooking?_

Before she had any time to investigate further the back door opened, and she turned to see Vegeta marching inside with a dish of cooked fish in his arms.

..

Moments later and Vegeta was savagely forking food into his mouth at a rapid pace, Bulma poking at her plate, and Trunks still asleep on the couch in the nearby room. It was strange, the Bluehead felt, as she sat across from Vegeta at the table and they ate in silence. The fish was as tasteless as it had been the last time Vegeta cooked – it seemed that he still hadn't come to terms with the idea of using a bit of salt or pepper as he cooked. But this wasn't what made Bulma reluctant to eat – the mere atmosphere was the reason she poked at her plate. Despite everything they'd been through, and how low their relationship had sunken at one point, they sat together now with hardly any discomfort. They didn't speak much as they ate together, but it didn't necessarily feel as if many words even _needed_ to be exchanged. Things just felt _normal_ , so _normal,_ and that thought in of itself was ironically what made her the most uncomfortable.

How could she feel _so_ natural with him so _easily and quickly?_

_How amazingly terrifying._

She looked up to see Vegeta finishing yet another plate. However this time, instead of grabbing another serving of food to continue his devours, he pushed his chair back and let out a low breath of satisfaction. He seemed to feel her eyes on him, because he then looked up at her curiously. "What is it?" He asked. He could sense that something was on her mind – it didn't take too much intelligence to be able to tell _that_.

Bulma put her fork down, pushing her own chair back. "I suppose they'll be wondering where I am." Images of her worried mother were floating through her brain. She still wasn't enthusiastic about the impending conversation she'd have to partake in, but she didn't think it would be fair to avoid her parents altogether because of it. Oh, how she wished she could just curl into bed for three days…

Her eyelids hung with fatigue as she looked back down to her plate, lamenting how much energy she was about to lose with this upcoming encounter. She was fatigued – absolutely exhausted – and she craved nothing more than for time to slow down just a bit.

Vegeta studied her features, considering what she had just said. It was true. The woman's parents _would_ be wondering of her whereabouts – there was no doubt about that. Yet somehow he'd figured that it would take longer for her to make such a decision as to leave. He'd assumed she would linger at his place for much longer, getting some rest as she determined how she wanted to handle Mrs. Briefs…

"I guess I should get it over with, huh?" Bulma looked back up from her plate to give the saiyan prince a reluctant smile. A moment later she was standing, to Vegeta's chagrin, and he quickly found himself rising from his own chair in response. The next thing he knew he was following her trail as she walked through his home, and all the saiyan could think was that it would be better if she stayed.

"You are uncomfortable." Vegeta commented as they both stepped into the sitting room, Trunks still dozing on the couch before them.

"Well," She replied tiredly, waving a hand over her face. "I'm not exactly looking forward to explaining _this_ to my mom – would _you_ be?" She turned then, leaning over her son and gently scooping him into her arms. The baby stirred, letting out a reluctant groan as he fought to remain asleep. "Wait, you don't need to answer that. You wouldn't mind at all, would you?" Bulma continued, her voice sounding nearly bitter. "After all, my face – _this_ is nothing to you. You've seen, felt, and done worse – haven't you? I must seem like a fool to complain about _this_ to someone with _your_ history."

Trunks let out an irritated coo, throwing his arms into the air as he stretched against his mother. He would have preferred if both of his parents would shut up at that moment. He was trying to sleep!

"MY history? Nevermind that!" What was she on about? It didn't seem like an appropriate time to remind him of his barbaric tendencies at a moment like this. What was her point with _that?_ He chose to ignore such a comparison – perhaps her fatigue might be getting to her? "Look. If you don't want to explain anything to your family, then don't."

"Right." Bulma replied sarcastically. "That'll work just great. I'll walk in the house looking like _this_ , and they won't wonder about it at all."

Vegeta shook his head, not seeming to find her current dilemma necessary. "So what if they are curious, Woman!? The battle-scars you carry are _yours_ , aren't they? Wear them with pride, and if anyone says something that you don't want to hear, just tell them to blow off!"

It was harsh, it was blunt, and the Bluehead wasn't quite sure how she felt about that being said of her own parents. But there was a meaning behind his words. _Her_ pain was nobody else's business – not unless she decided it was. Bulma nodded and turned for the door, Trunks groggily yawning as she went. The saiyan watched, raising an eyebrow. Not only was she leaving so quickly, but she wasn't going to ask him to join her.

"Woman."

She turned, her hand on the doorknob, looking at Vegeta quizzically. She still appeared to be incredibly tired, yet there was now a familiar look of determination on her face. That gleam that seemed to say _'Fuck with me – I dare you'._ It always crossed over her brows when she'd made up her mind on something. Vegeta had originally been intending to ask if she would like him to escort her again, but after seeing this he stepped down. The strong-willed Bulma Briefs he'd grown to expect so well had reemerged, and he knew she would not need – and perhaps not want - his companionship for this upcoming exchange. And, truth be told, the prospect of seeing Mrs. Briefs was not one that Vegeta always welcomed eagerly.

The Bluehead's face softened for a moment, and she bowed her head politely. "Vegeta, thank you… for _everything_ "

This was the last thing Bulma said before stepping outside.

Vegeta was proud to see how strong she'd was proving to be, and it was hard not to feel admiration that she was suddenly behaving so fearlessly. But still, he was unexpectedly sad to see her go. And when she disappeared through the front door the saiyan couldn't stop himself from racing to the other side of the house. He ran into his backyard, immediately flying up into the air to watch her for the duration of her walk home. He needed to see her path, to assure that made it unscathed. And when her little figure arrived at the Briefs household he let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

_What a peculiar sensation it was to see her disappear into that over-sized dome shaped hut that she called **home**._

"Her pride must be suffering greatly." The saiyan, still hovering in the sky, thought back on how reluctant she'd been to see her family. Such a dignified woman as she was, of course she'd be reluctant to receive their questions regarding her affliction. It was an unpleasant surprise to feel such an internal jolt when he considered this, his lungs seeming to threaten collapsing under the pressure of his muscles tightening.

Was it _empathy_ that he could feel welling inside? Bulma… She was stepping into a verbal battleground at this very moment.

Bulma – _his_ Bulma.

… _His_ woman, his pride, his _mate…_

 _Mate_ – what a word. It was the only word he could think of to describe her relationship with him, but yet it wasn't very suitable. In Saiyan heritage there could be no closer bond than a mate. Yet it didn't feel sufficient in her case - there was more to this connection he felt. She wasn't _just_ his mate. To be certain, what she was to Vegeta couldn't be simplified into a single word. But she was undoubtedly much more than simply a _mate._ A mate was merely an object of physical longing, one who had been selected as worthy of reproducing with to create a heir. And her value was greater than that. By far, she had a body that could distract his mind for hours on end, and it was one he always delighted to relish in. But she was, by far, more than solely an object to lust after.

Bulma was the first woman to have ever spoken to him as an equal, or to treat him with such fearless accountability. Despite how difficult she'd been in recent months, she had been the first and only person to be so _damned_ understanding of him. Regardless of his past and regardless of his behavior, despite how angry he might make her at times, he always knew she'd come through.

She also had quite a talent of rendering him speechless at times, stealing him of his breath in a way that a punch to the ribs wasn't quite able to do. Her small mouth packed quite a punch, and it was intoxicating that she could make him feel so blissfully intimidated at times. That in of itself was quite the alluring feat.

And it was amazing how the same woman – the only woman - who had ever been able to put him on his toes, was also capable of being so _pleasant._

As much of a turn on that it could be to be intimidated when her eyes darkened with ire, the way she looked when she smiled could be just as enticing. The way her face lit up when something delighted her was an image that would cross his mind on a regular occasion. He always craved to see such a light in those eyes, and he wasn't quite sure of what he _wouldn't_ do to be able to see it again. It was to the point that it would threaten Vegeta to forget about his own woes, focusing solely on how he could manipulate that gleam into showing itself once more. He'd found, especially in recent times, that it was worth it to put his own desires aside just so he could see that sparkle in her deep blues. It was horrifying, but he felt that he'd do nearly anything in attempt just to see those eyes brighten – if only for a mere second.

And now, because he hadn't been there to prevent it, she'd been inflicted with physical pain and mental anguish. That light was gone. While Vegeta had already destroyed the one who'd caused it, her state lingered, and as a result so did his own guilt over the matter. Even when she'd smiled since the assault, _that_ intoxicating _light_ had failed to come through.

_How long would it be until he was able to see that brightness shine over her orbs one more?_

It was hard not to feel personally responsible over her condition. There was a vow he'd made to keep her safe – he'd told her this many times, hadn't he? It was the primary duty of a saiyan male to keep his woman from harm's way! And yet it'd happened so quickly and easily. She'd been overpowered by some piece of filth that deserved every inch of pain that Vegeta had consequently inflicted on him. Revenge had been served - Rikuto had screamed until blood filled his lungs and rendered him incapable of making any noise other than a forced gargle. The inferior scum who had dared to lay a finger on the _mate_ of saiyan royalty had been destroyed, yet Bulma's suffering lingered on...

How could he not feel it was his fault that she now moved in pain? At that very minute she was having a conversation with her family that she _clearly_ did not wish to have, and such an encounter would not be occurring had it not been for Vegeta's own incompetence!

He'd let her down.

She was hurting, and it was his fault.

His blood boiled when he thought of how _damned_ careless he'd been to allow such injuries to occur to his woman. A pit in his gut, there was only one thing he knew to do. And so, with a frustrated groan, Vegeta allowed himself to drop onto the grass. It was time to pay a visit to his gravity room. After everything Bulma had gone through, it was his own body's turn to suffer. If nothing else, he deserved to ache. He needed to push his muscles to their limit, the punish himself for being so inept.

.

Vegeta wasn't sure of exactly how long it'd been that he stayed in his gravity room. But, hours later when he reemerged, he saw through the window that the sun was no longer sitting in the sky. Nighttime had fallen, and his house was empty.

He was alone.

The Saiyan crossed his hallway, heading for his room to take a quick shower. And he did just that, stepping into a cloud of steam as he immediately slapped a brick of soap against his naked flesh. Vegeta closed his eyes, feeling as the nearly boiling water clashed against his skin and taunted his newly sore muscles. _Bulma was still gone_ , he thought, _and perhaps she wasn't planning to return_. Was she intending for things to now go back to **normal** – for her to revert back to her old pattern of maintaining distance from him?

The night before she'd begged him for his company – she'd told him that she didn't want to be alone. And Vegeta had worried that it was her emotional distress that was causing such words to escape her lips. He'd tried to remove himself, hadn't he? He'd reminded her that she was in a vulnerable state, and still she persisted.

To his chagrin he could feel his core twisting once more. Every time he thought of her, and especially of the way it had felt when she'd nuzzled against his chest, his body would tighten in the most unpleasant of ways. It just _didn't feel right,_ after a night such as that, to now be standing in an empty house. He wasn't too keen on going back to his old way of respecting her personal space and waiting for her to come forth.

_How could he?_

He'd let his woman down already by not being available to protect her when she needed it to most. And now, after a shared night that _she_ had encouraged, he was expected to carry on as if nothing had happened? She was the mother of his heir, the only individual he'd ever deemed worthy of such a thing as _mating_ , the one who he'd been following for years. The exhilaration he encountered when her fingers intertwined with his own was something that he hated to admit he wanted to experience again, and he couldn't see craving such an encounter from anyone else.

It just wasn't right, this constant pattern of close contact and then extreme distance.

"No," The Saiyan announced. "I refuse to allow her to continue toying with me as if I am some pawn."

He finished his shower quickly and stepped out into his bathroom, throwing a towel over his head. It wasn't his intention to ignite an argument – she was under enough stress from her assault. But he couldn't carry through his night as if nothing had occurred between them at all.

 _He couldn't just leave her alone_.

..

Stretched out across her bed was Bulma, fast asleep and still. She'd been too exhausted to even crawl under her blanket, having dozed off as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her body was so tired that in her mind were no dreams, just a deep abyss as her brain recharged from the ceaseless stress she'd been facing over the last couple of days.

 _Of course_ Mrs. Briefs screamed when she saw Bulma's bruised cheeks. Oh, how the petit blonde covered her eyes and let out a heart wrenching sob, wailing about her ' _poor baby'_ through her gasps. Mr Briefs, one who typically did not openly express sorrow, had simply chosen to comfort his wife while bowing his head. Bulma had taken Vegeta's advice – she didn't want to explain what had happened in its fullest extent. She simply told her parents that she'd been assaulted, but that Vegeta had taken care of it. _That was the truth, after all, wasn't it?_ Her parents didn't need to know of why she'd been out so late with Trunks. They didn't need to know of the fight she'd tried to put up, the fear that she was _still_ recovering from, the realities she had to face and the hurt that welled through her veins. The simple truth was that she'd been attacked, but Vegeta had intervened, and she was going to be fine.

 _Fine._ She was going to be _just_ fine.

It was such a relief to have that behind her that she coursed through the rest of her dayher day, and at some point during Trunks' afternoon nap she'd managed to crawl upstairs for a quick nap of her own. She'd intended to only be asleep for half an hour. But her body, so eager to finally have rest, had refused to wake up. The day came and went, and even after Trunks rose from his snooze and cried for his mother's arms, Bulma didn't stir. Mrs. Briefs didn't think Bulma needed to be disturbed, considering all she'd been through, and so the rest of the day flew by as Bulma was left slumbering in her bed.

It came to her surprise, then, when the Bluehead was jolted awake by a pressure near her legs. Letting out a gasp, Bulma sat up and attempted to gain her bearings. _What on Earth? Why was it so dark?_ She hadn't fully come to grip what had happened to her when she turned to see a large mass sitting at the foot of her bed. The room filled with darkness, the silhouette at her feet was only illuminated by the moon. Bulma let out a terrified gasp, grabbing the closest object she could reach and throwing it the cause of her startle.

"Hey!" A familiar voice growled.

Bulma scooted towards her headboard, realization still dawning over her groggy mind. She was relieved to suddenly know that the person who'd scared her had _only_ been Vegeta, but still. "What – what are you doing here? what time is it?!"

"Why do you _think_ I'm here?" The Saiyan grunted. He was still holding the pillow that had hit him in the head, and he tossed it to the floor angrily. "What a question to ask."

"You startled me!" Bulma hissed. "Why would you wake me up like that?!"

"I was wondering why you didn't return."

"I never retur-" In the darkness Bulma's eyes widened. "Oh, but I don't even – oh _no_! Vegeta – tell me – what time is it? Please."

As disoriented as Bulma was, Vegeta began to feel the same. "What is all of this questioning, woman? I already told you that I came to see why you never returned."

"You keep asking me why I didn't go back to your place, as if it isn't obvious?!" It was then that Bulma finally thought to reach over and click on the tableside lamp. The room now lit up, Bulma was able to get a clear view of her surroundings. "How do you think I feel? Who _knows_ how late it is – it was 2 o'clock when I fell asleep! I just wanted to take a short nap, and now I'll be up all night! This is pissing me off _!_ "

 _'Ah_ ,' Vegeta thought. ' _So the woman just overslept.'_ It had been hard for him not to be upset when he came to her house and discovered her slumbering away in the dark. It was easy for him to have assumed that she'd just put herself to bed for the night. Feeling consequently indignant, he hadn't been able to resisting invading her room. And now, with this new understanding, her acts seemed much less traitorous than he'd originally thought. The Saiyan nodded, looked up to peer into Bulma's eyes, studying how humorously befuddled she was.

The Bluehead, dehydrated and angry at the prospect of spending yet another night tirelessly wandering her house, was feeling impatient. "What – what? What _is_ it?" She scowled.

 _Ah, this was **the** Bulma that Vegeta expected so well. _The Saiyan fought back a smirk. _Always ready to put up a fight, and for hardly any reason at all._

"I bet I could have just slept through the entire night if you hadn't come here! Now I'll _never_ get back to sleep!" Bulma was hissing, grabbing her legs to hug her knees angrily. "So, answer me! Tell me _why_ you felt the need to wake me up!"

The Saiyan couldn't fight it anymore. A sly smirk began to stretch over his lips. Her shallow irritation was so innocent in comparison to her high-strung emotions the night before. It was good to see this side of her again. It was a relief.

It was now that she was taking in a deep breath. "Look, if you aren't going to answer me then I'm out of here! I'm too thirsty for this."

Vegeta's smirk grew wider, and he leaned back tauntingly. "Fine then, go. Fetch your water. We will talk when you come back. I'll wait."

* * *


	25. Different

* * *

 

A glass of water was dripping with condensation, and Bulma gripped it awkwardly. She sat with her back reclined against the headboard of her bed, Vegeta still perched near her feet. They watched each other in silence as the Bluehead sipped her drink. It was hard not to feel somewhat suspicious as to the reason behind this surprise visit. Being woken up in the middle of the night to have a "talk" would certainly do that to anyone. She felt his eyes on her, could sense that he was patiently waiting for her to finish her water, and she gulped it quickly so they could get their conversation over with. "So," she said, placing her empty glass on the bedside table. "What is it?"

The Saiyan didn't avert his gaze from Bulma for the entire time that she'd been drinking, and when she asked this he tilted his head to the side as if he were considering the response. Bulma waited, licking the inside of her lips in anticipation. Vegeta _really_ could be quite handsome, couldn't he? The way his eyes were resting on her made her feel as if they were piercing her very core, analyzing every fiber of her being. Such a sensation could be quite intimidating – but it could also be rather titillating.

"What is it?" She repeated, her voice softening as she looked down to her lap. She could feel a blush creeping up as his eyes continued to survey her form. She had a few good ideas of what he might be thinking – perhaps of the previous night that they'd shared together?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Vegeta spoke.

"How does it feel?"

An eyebrow raising, Bulma looked up in surprise. "What?"

"Your face… how does it feel?"

 _Oh_. Without a thought she raised a hand to brush a finger against her cheek. She winced slightly, feeling rather dumb for that action. "Oh, _this?_ It's fine." How was it that sitting so close to Vegeta had managed to make her forget about the swelling? Her skin throbbed against the touch, painfully reprimanding her for being so careless. Despite how much it made her want to cuss from the feel, it was much better than it had been the night before. It really _was_ healing…

"You cringed." Vegeta's eyes were locked on one cut in particular. This cut was stretched across the same cheek she'd so foolishly stroked. His eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on this, noting the deeply purple hue of the skin, a bruise which seemed to sway around the scrape. "It still causes pain."

"It's healing!" Bulma straightened her posture, sitting up so she could face Vegeta a little better. "It's not that bad – I've been worse."

Without another word Vegeta pushed himself from his sitting position and began to scoot towards Bulma, who was resting on the other end of the bed. She watched as he came at her, slowly growing closer with each centimeter. She opened her mouth to question what he was doing, but no words came out. And a moment later she felt as he placed a rough palm over her face. Bulma let out a low groan, her hand instantaneously flying up to grab his wrist.

"I thought you said it wasn't _that bad_." He was so incredibly close to her now, his face eye-level to hers as he looked over her cut once more. "You lied."

"Just -" Bulma breathed, her grip on the Saiyan tightening. "It's fine! But that doesn't mean you should _touch it!_ "

"I needed to prove your lie… _So_ , it _does_ hurt." Vegeta removed his hand and sat back to look into Bulma's eyes once more. "Your wound doesn't appear to be deep, woman. The majority of your injury must be from direct contact with his knuckle. Your cheeks are soft, but there's not much to cushion contact with the bone."

It was difficult to explain why, but she felt oddly comforted by this. Bulma fought back the urge to smile, nodding silently instead. "So, there you go. It's not a big deal - that means I'll feel better soon." She made to brush some hair behind her ear, and suddenly she remembered that she'd chopped a decent amount of it off earlier in the day.

The Saiyan was still incredibly close in proximity to her, and he didn't seem as if he had intentions of backing away any time soon. "I'll be _waiting_ for this to heal." He commented.

Her eyebrows raised now, and she shot him a look asking him to elaborate.

"I'd prefer for something such as this to be on me, not _you._ " Vegeta's eyes fixed on her cheek once again. "Such an injury doesn't suit you."

Her cheeks were growing warm as a blush threatened to emerge. Suddenly shy, the Bluehead looked down and shook her head. She was going to insist once more that she was alright, but Vegeta stopped her before she had the chance. She felt his hand on her uninjured cheek, cupping her face and pulling her head up to look at him. Bulma's eyes wide, her voice caught in her throat.

He was _threateningly_ close now.

So near that she could feel his breath gently clapping against her skin. His eyes yet again locked on hers, piercing her soul in a way that only he had the capability to do. Bulma gently placed her fingers over his hand, holding it against her cheek, feeling mesmerized by his onyx colored orbs. She could see something gloss over in his eyes, and she could recognize this gleam from past encounters.

When his pupils grew _this_ deep, she always knew _exactly_ what was on his mind…

And, a moment later, she felt it. His lips brushing over her own, his palm tracing around to gently support the back of her head. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her fingers trailing up his chest to grab his shirt. Slowly he began to lower her back onto the mattress, and she allowed it. His lips were nudging against her own, massaging them open so he could explore her mouth further, and Bulma obliged. She pulled his shirt harder to exhibit her enthusiasm, letting out a low groan as his tongue began to softly stroke against her own.

_This was happening so fast, so quickly, so unexpectedly._

She was laying now, Vegeta's using his hands to hold himself above her, to prevent putting too much of his weight on her body. She'd been blind-sided with this, but suddenly all she could think of was that she wanted _more._ This embrace was familiar, though it had been much too long. Underneath the Saiyan, his arms protectively planted on each side of her head, she'd forgotten how safe it felt to be in this position. It was good to be there again, safely tucked below the only man who had ever made her feel this way. She didn't want to take it for granted, so Bulma reached out. Her fingers found his back, grasping at his toned muscles in desperation to deepen the kiss. It was strange, though, as she attempted to press against his body to show her enthusiasm. She could feel it in his muscles – as soon as she grabbed him there was a suddenly tense restraint, with which he seemed use to prevent his frame from sinking into hers.

_Why?_

Bulma gripped him tighter, straining her biceps so she could attempt to pull Vegeta down onto her. However his elbows were locked, his arms firmly holding his body above hers, and his torso didn't budge or lower. When she realized that he was now actively resisting against her gestures she opened her eyes. Vegeta was staring down at her, as if studying her face, and within a moment their kiss was broken. She looked up at him, arms still around his back, her irises glimmering with confusion. "What's wrong?" Her voice soft, still breathless from their kiss. The Saiyan now was incredibly stiff against her touch, and she was feeling somewhat disheartened by this sudden change of tone. She let go of his back, bringing her hands around to grip his face as he continued to peer down at her. " _Vegeta. What_ _is it_?"

His face stern, his eyes emotionless, Vegeta pushed himself off his woman and sat back. "You're wounded."

"What do you _mean_?" Bulma pushed herself up to a sitting position. She reluctantly watched as Vegeta stood from the bed. "Where are you going?"

"It's careless of me to initiate such a thing when you are still recovering." Vegeta muttered, his eyes closing to break the eye contact that he couldn't seem to escape. Now _she_ was the one staring at him, attempting to figure _him_ out. He felt shame washing over his body. _He'd nearly lost control._

This was something that had caused him to push her away _so_ many times during that three-year period before the Android's emergence. It seemed that when he was in close proximity with his woman he had no control over his own desires. Since then he thought that perhaps he'd gotten a grip, but here it was again. He'd acted before thinking, he'd failed to keep his lustful desires under tow. He hadn't intended to kiss her the way he did, and he'd almost been unable to keep it from progressing. There was just _something_ about her – about how he wished he could reverse the damage that had been inflicted on her body. A voice inside urged him to use any means necessary to make her forget about her pain. It was why he'd kissed her in the first place – to try and help her forget. But, in the end, it was hard to leave it at just _that._ A kiss didn't always remain just _a kiss_ when it came to her, it always seemed to escalate into something more. And he couldn't, she was still recuperating! Still much too fragile. It just didn't feel _right_ to impose himself on her like _this._

"I don't-" Bulma started, but Vegeta turned away and interrupted her trail of words. _Why had his demeanor suddenly changed?_

"I should not have done that. You're still vulnerable, woman."

 _What was this?_ She pushed herself from the bed and went for him. His body language told her that he could potentially leave at any moment, and she didn't want it. She was still surprised by everything that was happening in her room, yet she didn't want the moment to end. The more she encountered him lately, the more she wanted in return. "Vegeta," Bulma placed her hand on his right shoulder blade, feeling his muscle tighten once again against her touch. He balled his hands in fists, fighting back the urge that told him to grab her in response. She wrapped her arms around his body, her chest pressing against his back. Standing on the top of her toes, Bulma leaned to whisper in his ear. "I liked it." Her breath against his ear, she felt his skin stiffen in response. _Goosebumps._ She understood his concern, and she appreciated the warmth that his embrace had given her. They didn't need to partake in a vulgar act, but at that moment she'd decided that she didn't want him to leave. _She needed him to stay._ She just wanted to be _with him._ And with that she placed her head against his shoulder, nuzzling her uninjured cheek against his skin. "Please, _don't go_ …"

The Saiyan didn't turn or physically react to her gestures. "Woman," He grunted, his eyebrows furrowing as her palm began to brush over his chest. "Tell me something."

"What is it?"

"Am I a fool to believe that you wouldn't desire my presence had it not been for your wounds?"

Now, _this_ **_really_** caught Bulma off guard. Her grip loosened, but her arms remained wrapped around him. "Well," She breathed, considering her reply. "You'd be a fool to think that saving me _wouldn't_ make me feel a certain way… But there's much more to it than simply _that_."

The Saiyan, hearing this, somehow felt even more conflicted. He needed to make his point clear, and he needed to get it over with. Vegeta began to shrug his shoulders, working to remove her arms from around him. She understood his gesture so she backed away, giving him space. "Look." He still had his back turned, and she could tell by his posture that whatever he was about to tell her was something that he wasn't pleased about having to say. She put a hand over her chest in anticipation, not looking forward to whatever it was that she was about to hear.

"It is not my intention to burden you with such decisions during a time like this, but I must make myself clear. I've come to realize that I cannot continue our constant game of chase. I cannot be close with you at one moment, and then be expected to keep my distance from you the next. I need to know how you foresee your desires. If you do not wish for us to advance with our bond, then we need to stop having encounters such as this. I will cease, and this tireless cycle shall be broken." He turned, his eyes trailing over Bulma's bruises. "I will stay near so I can protect you and the boy, but that is _all_. I do not wish to continue imposing myself on you. I don't wish to _only_ share brief moments such as these with you, not if it is solely because your mind is in its most compromised state."

His words made Bulma want to reach out and grab Vegeta, urging him not to say such things. But she also wanted to slap him for that very same reason. "Excuse me?" She croaked, crossing her arms over her chest. Vegeta raised an eyebrow – he didn't need to ask to know that she was offended. " _Compromised state_? What – you think I can't make decisions on my _own_?!" She moved her hands from her chest to her hips, shooting him a look of warning. "Didn't I already _tell_ you that I wanted to be with you last night?! Wasn't I the one who had to insist on you staying?! You think I was just saying that because I wanted something to distract me from almost being kidnapped?! What kind of _girl_ do you think I am!?"

The Saiyan shrugged. "If this is the argument you choose, then I shall ask you this: why did you not want such contact with me _before_ that man attempted to hurt you?"

Bulma's eyebrows narrowed. He made a good point, there was no denying that. But he didn't know that her feelings had been confused and manifesting _before_ Rikuto's attack. And he didn't know of the epiphany she'd made during the assault, either! Sure – perhaps Rikuto had contributed to helping her realize what was truly important, but the reason she asked Vegeta to stay the previous night certainly hadn't been because she was upset and needed a distraction. It was much deeper than that – and for him to suggest such things made her feel as if she were some brainless damsel in distress. It was a foul image that she didn't want painted of herself!

But still, as Bulma licked her lips dryly and considered her response, she realized that perhaps she was being too rash. She could understand his concern, and to a degree she certainly appreciated it. Vegeta was trying to do the exact _opposite_ of take advantage of her pain. He was trying to establish boundaries, to protect her from doing something that she'd come to later regret. And she knew this was a rare trait to find in a man - and perhaps that's why it'd been so incredibly shocking in the first place.

"Look," She sighed, forcing her posture to relax. "I'm sorry I got upset. Obviously, this entire ordeal is still fresh, and I don't like being forced to think about it like this. And damnit, I hate talking about this with _you!_ I _know_ that what I went through is nothing in comparison to things you've seen, so I know you think I must be an idiot for it! But this was really hard for me…"

The lines upon Vegeta's face softened from her words, and he shook his head. "You come from Earth. Perhaps if you were a Saiyan I might ridicule your distress, but you're not bred for these type of encounters."

"I know you think we're all _weak_ on Earth." Bulma replied. "You've said it hundreds of times before, haven't you? Don't try to act as if not being a Saiyan gives me an excuse this time."

"Would you _stop_ with that?!" Vegeta snapped. "You're different than the others on Earth!"

Bulma bit her lip "I'm different? Well - it doesn't matter." She dropped her head, taking in a deep breath. "My point is that it may not seem substantial to you, but this was a big deal to me! It made me realize a lot, okay? I saw my life flash before my eyes, Vegeta. I – I thought I was going to _die_ , alright? I thought I was going to die… and all I wanted was _you._ "

It didn't take anymore convincing in order to sway Vegeta. If the words she spoke were true, then he had no doubts on the effect such an assault could have had on her. _Hadn't his own encounter with mortality shaped the way he approached his own kin?_ But, to think that she'd come to such a harsh conclusion didn't sink well with him. Death was something he never wanted to consider for the Bluehead standing across from him.

Bulma felt his palms brush over her forearms, and she looked up. Vegeta was close to her, once again, peering into her eyes. "I already told you not to compare yourself to my past." His hand trailed down her arm to find her wrist. "Look at this." He pulled her hand up to his face, examining the finger-shaped bruises lining her wrist. "That fiend grabbed you here, didn't he?"

"It's fine, I already-"

"I meant it when I said you were _different_ than other Earth mortals." The Saiyan breathed, dropping her hand. "You're _my_ Earth woman…"

Her eyebrows raising, Bulma felt as the wind seemed to be sucked from her pit. She couldn't begin to even register the sensation it was to hear him say such a thing, and a moment later she felt as he guided her back to the bed.

"I regret my errors as your mate, it's unacceptable to have allowed something such as _this_ to have happened to you."

Softly her head came into contact with her pillow, his body crawling on top of her own once again. This time he held his weight off of hers again, but not to the same extent as before. She felt as his stomach pressed into hers gently, his face threateningly close to her own.

" _You still need to recuperate_." His fingers were brushing against her injured wrist, his eyes never leaving her own. " _Go back to sleep_."

"Vegeta," Bulma replied, her eyelids feeling traitorously heavy. With him on top of her, cuddling her, she felt incredibly warm and safe. Wasn't she supposed to be wide awake – hadn't her nap done enough to inflict her with another sleepless night?

_Why was she suddenly so fatigued?_

"Quiet, Woman…"

Bulma began to wonder if Vegeta had some secret power of hypnosis, because it seemed that everything he was now commanding of her she was doing irrefutably.

_It was so warm, this embrace._

_So close._

_So comfortable…_

...

A few moments later Vegeta pulled himself back to his feet, looking down at the sleeping enchantress who was now softly dozing on the bed. He'd done it – he'd fought off the instinct that told him to comfort her in a primal way. Instead he'd lay with her until he'd been able to coax her back to sleep, satisfied with the information she provided during their conversation. Looking down at her, he watched as she let out a groan and rolled to her side.

 _'She tries to act as if she is above injuries,'_ Vegeta thought with a smirk. He found himself pulling her blanket over Bulma's body, thinking she would prefer to stay warm.

_'She really is different.'_


	26. I Misunderstood

Bulma woke, a cold sweat gluing her hair to the side of her face. She looked around, dazed and breathless, feeling as if she'd just run in a marathon. ‘ _Yes,’_ She thought, gaining her bearings and coming to terms as reality sank in. She was laying in bed, the sun glowing through the drapes on her window, and she was alone.

 

_Alone._

She'd fallen asleep underneath the safe hold of a man she trusted, and now she was waking up alone. Bulma could hear Trunks groaning from the other room, and she threw the blankets off her body. It was strange, the heavy sensation that ran through her muscles after sleeping for such a long period. She couldn't tell if she was tired or rejuvenated, her body in somewhat shock after the stressful days she'd recently had.

She took a quick look in the mirror, thinking to throw her hair into a ponytail. With a moment of surprise the reflection reminded her that she no longer was sporting long hair, and instead was styling a cute bob. ‘ _Oh,’_ Bulma thought with a smirk. It was convenient to not have to put quite so much time in grooming anymore.

It didn't take her long to get herself into a presentable state, but by the time Bulma was ready to leave her room, Mrs. Briefs had already fetched Trunks and taken him downstairs. She could hear the two down in the kitchen, the blonde grandmother affectionately fawning over Trunks while he surely was eating his breakfast.

It was little things such as these that made Bulma smile, closing her eyes and allowing the scent of freshly cooked pancakes to drift through her nose. Mrs. Briefs was always so helpful with Trunks, wasn't she? And it was wonderful to listen to the life going on among the house, especially when Bulma had so recently thought hers would be ending.

_Again._

The Bluehead stepped downstairs, listening as her mother began to sing to the baby in the kitchen. A song that Mrs. Briefs had sung to Bulma as a child, too. This seemed to exaggerate the sentimental feeling that was sweeping over the Bluehead as she slowly approached her family. But still, she couldn't help but think as she made her way through the house. It seemed that _everything_ was being put into perspective now.

_How many times had she had close encounters to death?_

This recent brush with the _other side_ had affected her much differently than any time before.

What set this last encounter with danger aside from the others was the fact that Bulma no longer felt quite like the invincible girl she once had. In previous close calls to her demise, Bulma had never quite believed it could happen. There was always some _way_ out, or some hope for a savior.

Perhaps it came with being a mother, but she now looked at life – including _her own_ – from a new angle. It was glorious and horrifying to know just how _fragile_ it is, and how easily it could be taken away. And most recently, now more than _ever_ , did she understand the severity and danger in almost _everything._

The underlying moment in which she seemed to finally make the distinction between mortality and invincibility was when her son from the future had saved her from her plane exploding during a battle with the androids. That moment alone – it was as if there was a _before_ and an _after_. At one second she and Trunks had been happily flying through the sky, and in another she was screaming hysterically and hoping her baby had been okay.

By neglecting to save her in that moment, Vegeta had done more than just carelessly left her for dead - he'd taught her an important lesson. Was it intentional? Had he hoped that by allowing her to go through such a terrifying moment she would be engrained with the ever-present instinct to practice caution when approaching situations? To be more careful about protecting Trunks and herself?

Whatever the case might be, after this most recent taste or mortality, Bulma felt nothing but optimism at _yet another_ chance for life. She loved to hear the sound of her family cooing together, genuinely appreciated the loving aura that was flowing through the house. But, as she stood now at the end of the stairway, she couldn't help but think that something was missing from the pleasant scene unfolding between her mother and son in the other room. Well, rather than something, _someone_ was absent.

 _Why had he left her alone_?

It was Monday morning, and the typical routine for Bulma would have been to wake up, have a quick shower and breakfast, and head out the door to fly into the Capsule Corp headquarters. Lately her way out the door included stopping to pick up a single blue rose that had been left for her by the man she'd spent so much time yearning after and ironically also trying to ignore. This morning, however, there was a break from this routine. There would _be_ no returning to the Capsule Corp building until her face healed. There would be no early mornings, rustling of feet, and desperation to make it into work on time in order to prove to her colleagues that she took her job as seriously as the next person did. She would be waking later, doing what work she could from the confines of her bedroom, and getting enough rest to let the bruises on her face heal to a normal skin tone. With this mindset, Bulma didn't bother even heading for the front door – why would she? And it came to her surprise, as she finished the last bite of the pancakes Mrs. Briefs had cooked for her, when she heard her mother's voice erupting through the halls.

" _Oh!_ "

The tone in Mrs. Briefs' voice typically could have meant two things. She was either terrified and something bad was about to happen, or she'd just been pleasantly surprised to the point that she was about to burst into tears. Perhaps even a combination of both. Bulma pushed herself from the table and stood, ready to investigate the reason for her mother's sudden outburst. But before she made it too far in her investigation, Mrs. Briefs came running with an item held in her hand.

"Just _look_ at this!" She squealed, her voice shaking as she held up the object for Bulma to see. "My, it's _gorgeous!_ "

In Mrs. Briefs' hand was a single blue rose, cobalt in tone and silent in aura. The blonde grandmother had tears running down her cheeks, and she admired the plant in the sunlight that was shining in through the window. "Y'know, he always outdoes himself, doesn't he?" She cooed, beaming from ear-to-ear.

Bulma raised her eyebrows. Not having planned to go into work, she hadn't thought to check the doorstep for another rose. And she was nearly surprised to see it - but there is was _._

_He'd left her another rose..._

"I thought our lovely trip was enough of a present, but my! Just _look_ at _this!_ " Mrs. Briefs seemed _so_ eagerly pleased at the idea that the rose had been left for her, and she ran to pour water into a vase. As Bulma watched this enthusiastic reaction, she found that she didn't quite have the heart to inform her mother that the rose had been left for _her_ instead. She'd already received several roses upon Vegeta's gestures, hadn't she? Mrs. Briefs could have this one…

"This is the best anniversary I've had in quite some time!" Mrs. Briefs was now singing, placing the vase with the single rose on her windowsill. To this Bulma's eyebrows rose instantly, her eyes widening as her mother's words sank in. " _What?"_

"I had the most wonderful trip out of town, my Bulma and Trunks are healthy and well, and now he's gone and given me such a romantic token of _love_!"

Bulma could feel herself slowly backing from the room. It turned out that by allowing her mother to keep the rose, she was not only doing Mrs. Briefs a favor, but she was helping Mr. Briefs as well. She made a mental note to shoot her father an email and give him a heads' up – he'd _owe_ her for this one…

"DIHGYA!" Trunks suddenly crowed. Mommy was going to leave the room – he could tell. Mommy was _going to leave the room_ , and she was going to leave him _alone with Grandma!_ His little eyes were fixed on Mrs. Briefs, and he could feel as his little heart was starting to pound. He'd been around his grandmother enough to know how she acted. And he could tell by her body language that, in any given minute, she was going to turn around and start planting wet kisses all over his little baby cheeks. She'd say how much she loved him, and probably would tell him that she hoped he would grow up to be as thoughtful as his grandfather was.

… _Wet kisses were the **worst** kisses…_

"DEEEE!" He continued nervously, hoping his mother would come to his rescue before Mrs. Briefs had a chance to turn on him. He put his hand down on the tray of his highchair, as if to emphasize the point he was trying to make. "MA! DEEEE!"

It didn't take much convincing for Bulma to understand that Trunks wanted her, and in an instant she was scooping the boy up into her arms. Trunks grasped her shoulders with gratitude, thinking for the countless time that he _really did_ have the best mother… She always saved him during sticky situations, and she _never_ gave **_wet_** kisses.

…

It was interesting that Vegeta could feel so recharged after his night with the woman. He'd hardly gotten much rest – _again –_ and yet he didn't feel the effects of sleep deprivation as he swung punches at a battle bot in his gravity room. In fact, he felt more lively than ever, and he was training as an _Ascended Super Saiyan_! It required quite the amount of energy to reach the level of an ascended Saiyan, and even more to maintain it as he threw himself at the bot and fired a beam in its path. He was surprised at how long he'd managed to last in this Ascended state, and yet he felt he could go much longer.

He couldn't keep the smirk from his face as he watched the battle bot in front of him explode, leaving only a trail of thick smoke in the place where its shadow had once been.

"Fool," The Saiyan grunted, powering down, his hair returning to its naturally black color. He threw his head back and let out a laugh, his muscles trembling with adrenaline. He felt so energetic – so _powerful_ – and he kicked at the heap of wires and ash that lay near his feet. "You'll need to be replaced," He spat, as if the battle bot could comprehend his words – as if it even still _existed_.

This is what brought Vegeta to the Briefs residence that morning. The Woman was at work, and the thought of encountering Mrs. Briefs always put a knot in his gut. But he was in an extremely good mood to note that he was hardly fatigued at all from the morning's training session. And there was a good chance that Mr. Briefs would be working from the lab in his basement! The Saiyan was eager to show off his latest accomplishment in destroying the most challenging battle bot he'd faced to date, and so he continued on his path for the Briefs household, eager to show off his latest defeat to anyone who would listen.

What added to his good mood was the fact that, after he strolled into the house without knocking, he could hear _her_ voice coming from the other room. It seemed that every time he let his guard down and neglected to trace Bulma's ki she would surprise him with her whereabouts. Wasn't it typical of her to be in the city on Mondays? What was she doing at home?

 _Nevermind that –_ when Bulma was at home, that meant there was no chance of that _slimy Beta male_ to be throwing himself at her like the pathetic little dog that he was. He was going to enjoy showing off his accomplishment to her even more than he would with Dr. Briefs, so he enthusiastically set off into the house. "Woman." He said after finding her at her desk in the bedroom. She'd been deeply concentrating on something in front of her, and his voice caused her to jump in her seat.

" _Kame!_ " She hissed, feeling as her heart settled into her chest. She didn't think she'd ever get used to how stealth-like Vegeta seemed to move. He could enter and leave a room without being noticed, and when he spoke his voice was so firm that it cut through silent air like a hot knife on butter. Who _wouldn't_ be taken by surprise if they thought they were alone and the confident _Prince Vegeta_ snuck up on them?

Nevertheless, she was just glad that he was in the same room as her. She'd been wondering when she'd get to speak with him again… Bulma put her pencil down, not able to fight the grin that was spreading across her face. She turned to look up at Vegeta, propping her arm up on the desk to rest her cheek in her hand. " _So,_ " She announced, her face still sporting an amused grin. "My mom appreciates the rose you left her."

It was as if a bomb went off in the room. At one second the esteemed Saiyan had been delighted at the prospect of showing off to the person whose opinion mattered to him the most. And the next second, he felt as if the floor could be pulled out from underneath him at any moment.

" _What?"_ Vegeta choked, defenses instantly rising. Suddenly he felt paranoid – _very_ paranoid - as if the blonde woman would burst in at any moment to wrap her arms around him and profess her admiration. He didn't want that – he didn't _like it_! "What do you mean, Woman?!"

The amused gleam in Bulma's eyes began to brighten, and she continued. "That _rose!_ You left it by the door, and she found it…"

" _That wasn't for her, Woman!_ " Vegeta was hissing through gritted teeth now, as if he were worried that Mrs. Briefs would hear his voice and come looking for him.

"Well, _she_ didn't know that!" Bulma was fighting back laughter now. "What – you think I should have told her it was left for _me_? What if that hurt her feelings?" In a way, it was as if Bulma was finally telling Vegeta that she had understood his gestures with the roses, and perhaps she was even hinting that _she_ appreciated them. But this approach was a lot more fun. Bulma always enjoyed seeing how stiff and frightened Vegeta would become at the possibility of seeing Mrs. Briefs. Of course, part of her found it slightly offensive that he acted so _uptight_ about being in the same room as her mother. But, on the other hand, nothing was more amusing than seeing such a pompously tough brick of a man be reduced to such a terrified state at the mere prospect of being hugged by an aging housewife.

"Look – tell me clearly, Woman. It's clear that there's been a miscommunication as far as those plants go. _What does she think_ is going on?" Vegeta could see that Bulma was getting entertainment from this exchange, and that in of itself was irritating. "Don't toy with me on this matter, Woman!" He growled. "Explain at once!"

"Okay, okay!" Bulma sighed, rolling her eyes. Still, the grin remained on her face. "Calm down! It's just a joke! She doesn't know it was from you!"

"Explain." Vegeta couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice, his mood having soured from the notion of Bulma fucking with him.

"My parents' anniversary is today, and she thought that it was a gift from my Dad! That's all! She doesn't know you had anything to do with it!" Bulma stood from her desk. "Look, it was a joke! I don't feel too bad, because he already treated her to a weekend getaway trip! It's not as if he forgot or anything! She just sees this as the icing on the cake!"

 _Anniversary?_ Vegeta stepped back to try and hide his confusion, his hands balled into fists. His mind was racing to make sense of the words. What did an anniversary have to do with anything? Why – where he came from, an anniversary was simply a unit of measurement that was used when a planet had successfully made a rotation around its sun! It was nothing more than a synonym for a year.

"You mean to tell me that you don't know what an anniversary is?!" Bulma's voice was heightening. She could see the confusion in Vegeta's eyes, and it only added to her amusement. He was much smarter than Goku – there was no denying that. He'd seen more in his years, lived through more, and understood how the world worked in a more realistic way. And yet he really could be so naïve to the culture that existed on Earth. In some ways, he and Goku were exactly the same. Rather than frustrating, Bulma found this reaction pretty _cute._

" _I know what an anniversary is!_ " Vegeta barked back. He was feeling irritated now. What had started as a endeavor to show off his strength had quickly turned into the Woman poking fun at his expense – twice in less than ten minutes! "I just don't see what the passing of the sun has to do with those two- oh…. Oh. _Oh!_ "

Realization was suddenly dawning on him, as he began to understand what it meant when someone from Earth used the term "anniversary".

He was appalled.

"You mean to tell me that another rotation of the sun has passed since those two commenced their status as _mates_?! And they _celebrate_ it?! How **vulgar**!"

Bulma raised her eyebrows, her smile widening even more. There he was, being as cute as ever, reacting to such a simple thing as if he'd only just learned of it for the first time. What made it more amusing was that this really _was_ the first time he'd heard of such a thing. It was great to see him in such an innocent state, especially with the tough-guy ego he always tried to carry around with him. "Of course, Vegeta. Why wouldn't they want to celebrate another year together?"

Vegeta's eyes were widening. He was trying hard to ward off the images that were racing to his brain, and it was sickening. He'd always known that those two were the _parents_ of Bulma, but such a thing was easy to ignore when they were so… _old_! The manner in which those two spoke to each other and acted physically gave no hints to any type of relationship other than platonic. But no – they were definitely _mates_ – and it seemed that they still actively celebrated such a status.

"That is repulsive!" Vegeta gasped, shaking his head. He turned to find an object in the room to focus on, not wanting his thoughts on Mr. and Mrs. Briefs to drift much farther. He was growing overwhelmed.

" _What_?" Bulma replied. The smile instantly fell from her face. This encounter wasn't quite so amusing anymore. "What's wrong with Mom and Dad? I think it's _sweet_ that they want to celebrate the love they have for each other, even after all these years!" Her voice was hurt, not liking the idea of someone considering her parents' relationship to be so bad as to be described as _repulsive._

She stepped closer to Vegeta, as if demanding him to answer her question.

And in return, he took another step back. He could see how disheartened her voice had suddenly become, and he was instantly regretting having said anything. He could see the look in her eyes, and it was clear that they had both been thinking of separate aspects to Mr. and Mrs. Briefs' relationship. He didn't want to explain himself, to admit having such a indecent assumption upon making sense of the Earth usage of the term _anniversary_. "Nevermind – I understand now. You're right, it is… sweet."

"That's not what you just said!" Bulma replied sadly. Did Vegeta _really_ find it disgusting to celebrate anniversaries? She suddenly felt as if nothing in the world was more important in that moment than knowing the answer to that question.

"No – I misunderstood. Here, Woman, look. I came because I need a new battle bot."

Bulma sighed and turned to her desk. She pulled a piece of paper from her drawer in order to note his request. "Okay, okay. But Vegeta – tell me why you think an anniversary is repulsive!"

"I misunderstood." He didn't want to explain anything. She didn't need to know. If she just focused on the bot for a bit, all would be forgotten and they could move on…

"No, Vegeta, I-"

" ** _I misunderstood, damnit_** _!_ "

…

A few hours later Bulma was knocking at Vegeta's front door. In her arms was the latest Battle Bot that she had quickly turned all of her attention towards when Vegeta left. The Saiyan seemed rather uncomfortable to be in her room, and he found a way to excuse himself as quickly as possible after requesting that she create a new bot. And she quickly forgot about their discussion about _anniversaries_ as she set to work, writing down new plans and reconstructing a new Battle Bot based on the latest set of Blueprints that were leftover from the last one.

She was pleased with how quickly she'd managed to finish this one. Vegeta had made plenty of requests for repairs of bots, or demands for entirely new bots altogether through the years. And with that Bulma had been allowed to have quite the amount of practice in designing the machines, her abilities growing faster in speed with each new bot.

She gave the door another knock, listening closely for the sound of footsteps on the other side. It didn't take long for the door to open, Vegeta now standing in front of her with a serious look on his face. "What are you doing?" He asked calmly, looking down at the bot in her arms.

"What kind of way is _that_ to greet someone?" Bulma replied, raising her eyebrows. Vegeta stepped aside to let her in, and he quickly slammed the door shut behind her. "You don't need to request my permission to enter." He clarified, turning around to look at her once again.

"Well, this is your house, isn't it? It doesn't feel right to just _barge in_ …" Bulma felt a bit indignant that she was having to explain the concept of knocking on doors to Vegeta. Wasn't that just something you _did_? A polite gesture that could universally be understood, no matter what _planet_ one was from?

"Well – yes. I see." Vegeta seemed amused by her response. "That is true. I _am_ the Prince of an almighty race of warriors, and this is my palace. But _you_ do not need to request my permission to enter these quarters. You are not of the same status of a _guest_. You shouldn't feel the need to knock."

Bulma turned and put the battle bot down on the floor, not wishing to carry it any longer. "Okay, I see…" She replied lazily, standing back up straight to face Vegeta once again. "Well then, on that note, let's talk about last night. Don't _you_ feel comfortable with my house? You know you can come and go as you wish, right? I'd like to know why you left last night."

Vegeta raised his eyebrow. Now it was as if he were the one who didn't understand why she was even asking such a thing.

"Didn't you want to stay with me?" Bulma looked down and clapped her hands together. It was as if the question had been on her mind all day, and she'd only just then summoned the courage to actually ask it.

"Ah," Vegeta replied. He turned and began to make his way towards to back of the home, as if gesturing for her to follow. "This is _my_ palace. It's been built and constructed to my very requests. Why should I not want to sleep here?"

"This isn't a _palace_ – Vegeta, it's a _house._ And it's almost an exact replica of the one my parents built." Bulma corrected, unable to smirk from the words that were leaving the saiyan's lips.

" _Palace_ , _house,_ whatever." Vegeta replied, waving a hand dismissively. "These are my chambers, and this is where I will sleep each night and start my day each morning. If you desire to share nights with me, you'll have to be doing it here. We'll have more privacy, with no _others_ intervening."

 _What was this?_ Bulma hadn't quite been expecting such a thing to be leaving his lips, and before she could think she found herself speaking back. "There is _no_ way I would sleep _anywhere_ without Trunks. And there is no way he will be sleeping anywhere without a proper bedroom!"

"I see." Vegeta turned and crossed his arms. He was looking towards the staircase, as if he were considering her words and trying to decide which room would be best for Trunks to inhabit. "And what exactly would a _proper bedroom_ consist of? Tell me that."

"A crib, of course." Bulma hardly felt that it was even her speaking. Was she making move-in arrangements with Vegeta? _What was going on?_

"Hm. Consider it done. I will speak with your father and let him know that I expect a crib to be delivered _tomorrow_. Anything else you'll be needing?"

Bulma's eyes widened. She could feel sweat forming at her forehead. "Wait a minute!" She gasped. "I didn't say I would move in here tomorrow! What are you talking about?!"

Vegeta let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "And I didn't say that either. You told me you wouldn't consider staying the night here unless the boy had a proper place the sleep as well. If he gets his crib tomorrow, then you won't have to worry about minor details anymore. Now, is there anything else you'll be needing in the event that you end up staying here?"

It was as if a lightbulb was going off in Bulma's head, and she suddenly found herself considering all of her options.

Even as she made her way back to her parents' home, her mind was still racing at possibilities. Had Vegeta _really_ just proposed that she start staying with him, and made the promise that he'd accommodate any of her needs? Suddenly she was listing any and everything that she could think of; changing the living room drapes, purchasing some _real_ cooking utensils, putting a white rug down to line the upstairs hallway, purchasing some nice bubble bath to relax with – she was a _girl_ after all, wasn't she?! What girl would want to have a nice cabinet of bath supplies readily available for when she needed it?!

Bulma was suddenly feeling optimistic about the week ahead. She hadn't been planning to go into work anyway, and the new idea of redecorating and renovating Vegeta's house was completely taking her mind off of the attack she'd suffered a few days earlier. She wouldn't have Mrs. Briefs to argue with in regards to the home décor – she'd have full control over how this house would look, and what type of things it would be stocked with!

She was feeling more excited by the second – she'd decided that she would _definitely_ be purchasing a white rug to line the upstairs hallway, and perhaps a matching rug to be placed in each bedroom as well? _Oh –_ and what about Trunks' room? The baby had to have a _theme_ , didn't he?

Flattered and hopeful, Bulma was excited as she walked into her parents' home and ran upstairs to find a piece of paper. ‘ _Yes,’_ She thought. She was going to have fun with decorating Vegeta's home. She was going to use his words and take full advantage of them. He'd _asked_ her if she had any more needs before she would consider staying at his place, and she was going to hold him to that!

She'd have all week to plan this! An entire week of demands and requests, and by the end of the week she was hoping that her face would be making quite a bit of progress in its healing. Hell, maybe the swelling and bruising would go down enough that she could return back to work the following week, and nobody would suspect that anything had happened to her at all!

No, nobody would suspect a _thing…_

…Unfortunately for Bulma, she had no idea that in less than 24 hours she'd be meeting face-to-face with Tadashi…

 


	27. An Unexpected Visitor

"I don't like this."

Vegeta was standing in his living room, arms tightly crossed over his chest. In front of him were a dozen or so workers, some of which were taking measurements while others actively unloaded boxes. Bulma was standing at Vegeta's side, her eyes bright as she willfully ignored the statement he'd just made.

The workers had just finished setting up furniture in Trunks' designated room. It had completely come to Vegeta's surprise when, instead of exiting his home at once, they began to mess about in the rest of his house.

"I thought they would leave." Vegeta continued. His eyelid was beginning to twitch as he watched a worker dropping a box onto the floor, which resulted in a loud _bang_ that echoed through the halls. Bulma's own teeth gritted at the sudden noise, internally hoping that whatever had been dropped hadn't been the _chandelier._

"Woman." Vegeta growled through gritted teeth, exasperated by the lack of replies on her part. Her silence said it all. She knew exactly what was going on – this had been part of a plan. "Woman," he repeated, " _What_ did you do?"

Bulma let out a sigh, as if the answer was obvious. "Come _on,_ " She said, a hand clapping onto her hip. She turned and shot Vegeta a mischievous grin. "You told me to make all the accommodations I need, didn't you?"

It was now Vegeta's eyebrow that began to twitch, instead of his eyelid. His mouth felt dry, even as he ran a tongue over his gums, searching for words to express what exactly he was feeling. "How do your required accommodations result in _this?"_ He resolved to turn back towards to room, gesturing his hand at the chaos unfolding in front of them. Vegeta's eyes settled on a random worker, who was in the process of pulling down some of the red drapes covering the living room window. It was unfortunate for this handyman that Vegeta had focused on, the Saiyan really did love his red drapes. More than he'd wanted to admit, but sure enough when Vegeta saw this strange man ripping them from the wall it was enough to finally snap his temper.

"You!" Vegeta erupted, his voice booming through every hall of the house.

It was enough to make each handyman in the room jump. They all took part in glancing over their shoulder, each hoping that the words hadn't been directed towards themselves. When the Window Man saw that Vegeta's eyes were locked on his own he gulped. He immediately pushed the drapes away, throwing his hands into the air as if the say ' _hey, don't blame me, I was just doing what I was told to do._

"Ve-Ge-Ta!" Bulma said, putting stress on each syllable as if that somehow would make her sound much more stern. " _Don't_ scare them!"

"That man tried to defile my home." Vegeta growled, raising a finger to point it at the handyman. "And all these peasants are doing this because of _your_ word!" He slowly turned to shoot a glare at Bulma, who raised her eyebrows in return.

"Don't you want it to look nice in here?" She teased.

"It _already_ looks nice in here!"

"But Vegeta," Bulma replied, her voice dropping into a silky whisper. "Don't you want it to be _very_ nice?"

The saiyan's eyebrows raised, and he felt his throat tighten into a stiff gulp.

* * *

 

Tadashi checked his wrist watch, noting that it was already noon. It was Tuesday, and for the second consecutive day Bulma had been absent from work. The blonde intern was still shaken by his encounter with Vegeta a few days earlier, with a sinking feeling in his stomach that seems to grow worse with each passing moment. The way Vegeta barked, his voice lifting every hair on Tadashi's body. The way Vegeta had stood, his posture demanding and threatening, making him appear as if he were three meters taller than he really was… There was no other way to think of him other than as a _beast_ , and the idea that Bulma lived with such a thing did nothing but worry the blonde intern. The last time he'd seen her, Bulma had seemed so preoccupied – so frantic and worried. That had been one of the reasons why Tadashi chose to pay her a visit and deliver the pile of documents she'd left on her desk, hadn't it? And now, after falling subject to _Vegeta's_ wrath for the second time, Tadashi had no doubt that the beast had something to do with her anxiety.

The thought of Bulma being alone with Vegeta's temper, at the mercy of his mood, stuck with Tadashi for the entire day. Flashbacks of being thrown to the ground replayed in his mind, like a dramatized scene in a made-for-TV movie. By the end of the day, when the intern reported to Dr. Briefs to discuss the status of certain projects, Tadashi was nearly beside himself. Dr. Briefs was always so laid back and careless, and it came to no surprise that he didn't even mention the fact that Bulma was absent for the second day in a row.

"So you'll be in early tomorrow then, my boy?" The professor asked cheerfully, looking over a report that was laying on his desk.

The intern lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Early?" He asked, as if to confirm he'd heard his boss correctly.

"Yes. If that's alright. We're behind on a few things and could use the extra help." Dr. Briefs responded by turning in his chair and sporting a grin, his wiry mustache stretching into a deceptively calm wreath, which threatened to comfort Tadashi as he watched. The professor seemed like such a genuine man – kind and caring of everyone he worked with – so how could he be so negligent to the safety of his own _daughter?_

Tadashi nodded gravely. His boss was asking him to go into work early – _asking_ – as if he even had a choice in the matter! Of course he would do exactly as what was requested of him - what other option did he have? He'd work as much overtime as need be, but if he was going to give up hours of previous sleep, Tadashi at least had the right to inquire about the circumstances…

He did… didn't he?

"Um, excuse me …" The blonde cleared his throat. "But, are we… Are we behind because… _some_ people have been out of the office?" He cringed as he heard the words escaping his own lips. It was a blunt question to say the least, something he never could have imagined addressing to his boss before. Instantaneously Tadashi could feel his knuckles begin to tremble as he waited for the professor's reply.

 _Oh no_ , the shy, unconfident boy inside him shuttered. _You've questioned a superior – what have **you** done?! _ Tadashi could feel his forehead growing clammy in an instant, as cold beads of sweat began to trickle out from his pores. He indulged in a dry gulp, which was followed by a silent gasp for air. His heart was starting to pound now, a thousand _WHAT-IF_ scenarios playing over in his head. He was an intern – a _mere_ intern, and he'd had the audacity to talk back to his boss. He'd be fired for sure – let go for his blatant disrespect of his superiors - his entire career was soon to be over! He'd have to return to school, return to the days of ceaseless studying. He'd probably end up on the streets, begging for change just to pay the-

"Are you alright, son?"

Tadashi's chain of doomed thoughts was broken by the professor's voice. The blonde shook his head, snapping back to reality and instantly feeling comforted by the tone Dr. Briefs had spoken with. There had been no anger or malice in his voice – just concern. Suddenly he became aware that he was in the process of having an overly dramatic breakdown in front of his boss. _This_ was another habit of Tadashi's – one engrained in his very core. _He'd overreacted_ , and Tadashi instantly found himself fighting the urge to blush. He threw a hand behind his head and forced an exaggerated laugh. "Oh, why wouldn't I be okay?" He chuckled, while simultaneously fighting to catch his breath from the mini-heart attack he'd inflicted upon himself.

Dr. Briefs raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, giving the intern a notable side-glace. "Okay, then." He turned back to his desk and began to scribble a few notes down on one of the reports he'd been studying earlier. "We are a bit short staffed at the moment, yes, and that will be the case until further notice. If you could just come in an hour earlier tomorrow I'd appreciate the help. I've asked a few others to do the same, as well."

"Right!" Tadashi replied, forcing another nervous laugh. "I'll be in tomorrow – I'll even come in _two_ hours early!"

It was at this that Dr. Briefs turned back to the young man, raising his bushy eyebrows and shooting him a perplexed look. " _One hour is enough._ " He said, all cheer dropping from his tone. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Of course! Of course! Just a little – hehe – tired, that's all!" Tadashi's desperate grin was so wide that he wasn't sure if his jaw wouldn't be too sore to chew his dinner later that night. "Boy, would you look at the time? I'm keeping us – I'll just be going now, and I'll be in tomorrow morning – two hours early!"

Dr. Briefs watched, his mouth dropped open, as Tadashi turned and ran from the lab. The boy bounced on the soles of his feet as he went, as if he were trying to be as quiet as possible with his steps. "One hour is early enough!" Dr. Briefs repeated, calling after the intern as he left. Tadashi disappeared out the door and the perplexed professor's eye's widened. " _There's something wrong with that boy…"_ He muttered to himself. " _Perhaps he's been working himself too hard…"_

As Tadashi ran for his car, feeling mortified at the idea that his boss now thought he was crazy, the intern couldn't help but to grow more upset. He wouldn't have been as concerned, or as emotional as he was, had it not been for Bulma's absence. He was certain that it had something to do with Vegeta, and he needed to make sure she was okay… He was starting to grow angry at the thought that Vegeta had made him look like such a fool in front of his boss, and Tadashi needed some answers…

* * *

 

…

It was about 6 P.M., and things at Vegeta's home had been relatively calm for the last hour. The worker men had left for the day – mostly in part because the Saiyan had lost all of the patience he could manage for what was happening to his house. He'd finally had enough, and through gritted teeth he ordered the men to leave – the only thing holding him back from blasting them out of existence was the thought of staying in Bulma's good graces. He didn't like it, but if this was what it took to make her happy about staying at his place, he would tough it out. It was worth not having to live with Mrs. Briefs anymore – very much worth it.

Vegeta was walking through his living room and analyzing his furniture, which had been rearranged and scattered about. The couches had been replaced with softer and bright looking specimens, and an oriental rug had now been outstretched across the floor. The Saiyan thought the room was odd, but somehow he found that it wasn't as bad as he'd initially expected. With a nod, Vegeta looked up to grin smugly at the drapes which covered his windows. Indeed, they were the same drapes he'd defended so sternly.

"Hm," Vegeta grunted, turning and making his way for the stairs. Bulma may have gotten the new couches she'd wanted, the new rugs, the chandelier, the marble table… She may have gotten nearly everything she'd demanded, _but_ the red drapes had stayed. Which one of them had truly won after all? The Saiyan was pretty sure it'd been him…

..

Vegeta found Bulma upstairs in the room she'd made for Trunks. She sat, cradling the boy, in the large cushioned rocking chair that had been delivered earlier that day. As she swayed back in forth in the chair, looking down at her dozing son, there was a serene smile on her tired face. Her eyelids appeared heavy as she looked to make sure Trunks was asleep. And a moment later, as Vegeta continued to watch, Bulma looked up at him and gave him a smile.

_That smile._

It was enough to make the Saiyan forget about his frustration with the changes that had been cast upon his home. To see that heavenly look on his Woman's face. To know that the three of them were alone – alone in _his palace_ – with no chaos or cluttering noises taking place downstairs as the Woman's parents performed a number of chores or yelled at their TV. It was the quiet environment he'd been craving for so long, and he was now sharing it with his kin.

"I think he likes it in here," Bulma whispered calmly, carefully pushing herself up from the chair to make her way to Trunks' new crib. "He fell asleep so quickly today."

Vegeta didn't reply. He let himself lean against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his woman set down their son. Her arms now empty, she straightened and turned back to the Saiyan. As silently as possible, she quick-stepped out of the room and palmed the door shut behind her as she went. The two now standing alone in the hall, she began to walk towards the stairs.

"I'm sure you're getting hungry," The Bluehead said without looking over her shoulder. Vegeta was silently following her as they made their way downstairs. "I suppose I could try and cook something – but I'm nowhere near as good in the kitchen as my Mom. It'll take awhile to get something made. Or, I was thinking, we could also order food to be delivered."

"And how long would that take?" The Saiyan replied. He'd known that food delivery was a thing on Earth, but he wasn't sure if he'd every personally experienced it himself. He was capable of preparing his own food – though the meals he made weren't nearly as succulent as the food that Mrs. Briefs could make. And Mrs. Briefs _always_ seemed to be cooking – even when nobody in the house was wanting to eat. There had never been a need to utilize Earth's food delivery system, but now that the opportunity was presenting itself to him and Vegeta was intrigued.

Bulma was about to respond to Vegeta's question when the Saiyan suddenly stiffened. In a split second his entire posture had changed, going form at-ease to an extreme alert. He turned from her and began to glare off into a specific direction. To Bulma it appeared as if he were just angrily studying a wall. His chiseled features looked even more defined in the dim light as he focused on whatever it was that had caught his attention, and Bulma couldn't help but to find herself on edge.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her tone dropping with worry.

Vegeta didn't respond, his eyes still locked in the opposite direction. Suddenly, after several seconds of silence, he spoke. "Stay here." He ordered, not an ounce of cheer in his voice. It frightened Bulma to see how suddenly serious things had become in just a matter of seconds. _What was about to happen?_ She watched with fright as Vegeta went marching out of the room. She could see now that he was heading for the front door. Her mind raced with possibilities, and the only thing she knew to expect was that some sort of altercation was about to unfold.

It wasn't that she felt threatened. There wasn't any doubt in her mind that Vegeta could withstand anything that might be outside. If it was an intruder that was attempting to break in, Vegeta would whip them inside-out before they could even know what was happening to them. The fear that was simmering through her veins came from shock – from the sudden change of air. Fear of the unknown. But, despite how worried she'd suddenly become, Bulma knew that she couldn't be harmed with a bodyguard such as Vegeta. And so she found herself silently stalking after him, to anxiously see what had caused the sudden shift of mood.

As Bulma stepped into the entry way she could hear Vegeta's voice growling from outside. Someone was out there, and it was obviously somebody who wasn't welcome. Her first thought was that it might be Yamcha – but that didn't make much sense. What reason would _Yamcha_ have to pay them a surprise visit? The Bluehead jumped for the window that was beside the door and she lifted back its curtain to peek out.

Her eyes widened.

The man who was being confronted by Vegeta certainly _wasn't_ Yamcha.

But why? Why on Earth was _Tadashi_ here?!

.

"I have told you several times to stay away, and yet you continue to impose yourself on my family.” Vegeta was growling. He could feel sweat forming at her temple, his breath growing more shallow. It was bad enough that Tadashi had come by several times looking for Bulma, but he'd now shown up yet again. And this time he'd arrived acting as if he were ready for a fight.

"I want to see Bulma. You've done something to her!" Tadashi was yelling back. "You're the reason she's been acting so strange!"

The only thing that was keeping Vegeta from picking up the twerp and throwing him off into the distance was the surprise at how hostile the blonde man was behaving. It was something that Vegeta assumed Tadashi wouldn't have been capable of. "She won't be speaking to you tonight." The Saiyan growled, crossing his arms. "I am going to tell you once more to leave, and that is the last warning you'll get from me."

"Is that a threat?" Tadashi yelled. "Are you threatening me?! With what? Is this how you talk to _her_?!" His cheeks were turning red, and he shook his head. "I knew it!"

Vegeta took a step back and cocked an eyebrow. What on Earth was the beta male speaking about? As if on cue to answer his question, the door opened and Vegeta turned to see a worried looking Bulma stepping outside. Vegeta shot her a look that told her to go back in the house, and in response she glared back.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, now looking past Vegeta to Tadashi. Her voice was harsh, yet there was an underlying tone of concern. It was the worry for this puny fiend Vegeta could hear that made his stomach turn in a fit of rage. At the sound of her voice Tadashi turned, and the anger in his eyes dropped as saw her face. "Bulma," He gasped. "What did _he_ do to you?"

The Bluehead stepped out further from the door, thinking to put herself between the two men. She needed to neutralize this situation before it escalated into something that she wouldn't be able to control. As she made her way closer to Tadashi she could see the look of pain in his face, and she raised her eyebrows in return. "What are you doing here?" She repeated. "Tadashi, you shouldn't be here."

"Yes I should!" The intern replied, his lip starting to tremble. "Bulma, what- what has he _done_ to you?"

"What do you mean?" She replied, her voice growing softer. It was as if whispering would be enough to send Tadashi away without an altercation on Vegeta's part.

The blonde intern gulped, and with a quivering voice he spoke. "Your skin – your face… _Bulma-_ "

The Bluehead put a hand up to her cheek, and for a split moment her vision tunneled. A jolt of electricity had shot through her core with the pain of touching her wound. Somehow, through the commotion of the day, she'd managed to forget. She'd completely forgotten that she'd wanted to avoid being seen by anyone that she encountered on a regular basis. It had slipped her mind, and in an effort to prevent Tadashi from being seriously injured by an enraged Vegeta she'd run outside, once again forgetting about the bruises and cuts that had been inflicted on her body. She'd made the mistake of presenting herself to the intern, for him to see. And now she found herself speechless, her finger pressed to her cheek, the events of the weekend plummeting back at his question. _What had happened to her?_

"You shouldn't be here." She gulped, starting to feel overwhelmed. Like a deer in headlights, she'd found herself put completely on the spot.

"I knew it, but I didn't realize how bad it was until I saw this." Tadashi replied.

Bulma looked up and her eyes widened. "Are you – " She hissed. She was whispering as softly as she could now, as if somehow she could preserve some of his dignity by keeping her voice down. "Tadashi – why are you _crying_?"

The blonde intern let out an audible choke, and he made for Bulma, his arms opening wide. All he could think to do was pull her away from this house, to take her far away. To a place where she'd be safe from the hands of the beast. He didn't get very far in his advances, though, because a split moment later Vegeta was standing a mere half-meter away, putting himself between the intern and Bulma.

There was no joke or amusement on Vegeta's face, and he looked as if he were ready to move in for the kill. "You will not come any closer." The Saiyan growled. "You are not to return here ever again, do you understand, _boy_?" His voice curled as he ended his sentence, the word "boy" coming out as if he were somehow going to use it as a weapon.

"Vegeta," Bulma said softly, and the Saiyan could feel her hand gently placing on his shoulder.

"Don't try to calm me, Woman! This trespasser's actions are unacceptable!"

"Vegeta, something's wrong with him. Just let me talk to him for a moment."

The Saiyan turned and shot her a look, as if he were questioning her intelligence. "He was going to try and grab you, didn't you _see?_ This Beta isn't to be trusted!"

"I wasn't going to do anything to her – not anything like you've done!" Tadashi crowed. The two stopped looking at each other to lay their attention on the intern, who seemed to have pulled himself together and dried the tears from his eyes. "She doesn't need to be here. Bulma, please, you have options. How long has it been going on? How many times has he done this to you? Don't let him lay a finger on you ever again! Please – you deserve better!"

Bulma's eyes widened, and her grip on Vegeta's shoulder loosened. Suddenly it was clear what Tadashi was thinking, and his actions no longer seemed quite as irrational. No wonder he'd become so emotional and upset! She felt her cheeks growing red in horror. She put a hand over her mouth as she attempted to think of something to say, but she was at a loss for words.

"What… _What_?" Vegeta looked from Tadashi to Bulma, and back to Tadashi again. "What are you implying, _boy_?"

But Tadashi didn't need to explain. Vegeta knew. Had Tadashi seriously suggested that the wounds on Bulma's face had been caused by the hands of the Saiyan prince himself? Was this really such an issue on Earth that Tadashi could reasonably make such an assumption? Vegeta always knew that the humans on Earth were of an inferior species – but _this?_

"What kind of barbaric race is the human, _after all_ , if the male is known to strike his own mate? _What's wrong with this place?_ " Vegeta spat, his arms tightening over his chest. To think that on his home planet, even the lower class saiyans were known to treat their mates with nothing but the upmost respect and honor! And it was suddenly becoming evident that this wasn't exactly the case on Earth. "What kind of coward would strike his own Woman, _boy?_ Where did you see such a thing – are _you_ one of them?" Vegeta's voice was no longer full of foreboding, but was now completely perplexed.

Why was the beast that hurt Bulma now talking as if he came from an alien planet? Tadashi's eyes widened. What was going on?!

Vegeta was beside himself now, and he turned back to Bulma as if to ask her to eleborate. "Do they _really_ strike their own women on this planet?!" He balked. Bulma nodded slowly, lowering her eyes to the ground. "Not all of them. Our society does a lot to try and prevent this and to provide support for those situations, but it's still known to happen…" It was then that her voice lowered into a whisper that she knew only Vegeta would be able to hear, as she leaned closer to his ear. "Watch yourself. Remember – Tadashi isn't supposed to know that you aren't from this planet. We can talk about this later."

Vegeta stepped away from her, ignoring Bulma's words. He turned his attention back to Tadashi and looked him up and down, placing his hands on his hips. "What kind of filth do you take me for? How dare you suggest that an upper-class warrior such as myself would stoop to such a pathetic level as to harm my own _woman_?!" The Saiyan was still perplexed, but the anger was returning to his voice now.

Tadashi was backing away now, surprised at how frightened he was to hear what Vegeta was saying. This man wasn't just a beast – he really _was_ an alien! There was no other explanation for the way he was reacting, and it was too much for poor Tadashi to take. The blonde intern put a hand in his pocket and grabbed at his car's capsule, throwing it out behind him as he continued to back away. "B-Bulma, you sure you don't want to come with me? You shouldn't be here. It isn't safe."

"This is my _home_." Bulma replied, her tone still concerned but much more strict than he'd ever heard it before.

"I'll talk to you about this next time you're at work." Tadashi said dumbly, feeling as if he were slipping into a clinical state of shock.

"We won't be discussing anything at work." Bulma stepped out from behind Vegeta now, and the maternal look of worry had quickly soured to distaste. "I will be speaking to my father about this, and that's the only conversation you'll be expecting. Understand?"

"I'm only worried about you, Bulma. Look at what he did to you-"

"Vegeta didn't _do_ this to me, and that is all you need to know."

Tadashi was grabbing at the doorhandle of his car now, feeling his mouth growing dry. She'd never spoken to him like this before. She'd never looked so upset.

"Are you mad?" He asked.

"I'm your boss. Do you understand?"

Tadashi nodded, but he wasn't so confident that he wasn't going to be in trouble for what had just occurred. It wasn't his fault though, was it? All he'd been wanting to do was check on her and help! He quickly jumped into his car without speaking another word, and a moment later he was shooting away into the sky.

Bulma was feeling a bit light-headed by everything that had just unfolded, and she turned to see Vegeta looking equally unnerved. "Does your father lay his hands on your mother?" He asked, her eyebrows furrowed as if he were trying to understand a difficult riddle.

"No, he doesn't." Bulma replied. This wasn't something she wanted to talk about. This whole ordeal was just too much for her! She briskly stepped past the Saiyan as she made her way back into the house.

Vegeta turned and went after her. He knew Tadashi would be back – it was as if the boy craved altercations. "You should have let me kill him," the Saiyan announced. "At least punched him in the stomach! He's going to come back, you know!"

All that he heard in response was a long sigh.

 


	28. Control

After walking back into the house with Bulma, it took less than five minutes for Vegeta to disappear. Without warning he'd just vanished from the living room, leaving the Bluehead standing on her own in the entryway to the kitchen. He did it without any explanation - she hadn't even realized that he wouldn't be returning. Naively Bulma believed that he would be back at any minute, and so she didn't hesitate to start rummaging through the refrigerator and thinking of what they would do for dinner. It came to little surprise for her to realize that, aside from random condiments that she hadn't even known he had a taste for, his entire kitchen was bare of groceries.

 

And so, an hour later, Bulma was awkwardly accepting stacks of delivered goods that she'd ordered for the house. Anticipating the saiyan's insatiable appetite, she'd requested enough food to feed a party of 30. It took ten men to load the trays of cooked meals into the kitchen, arranging all of them across the counters into a buffet.

Bulma made the table, stacked food on the plates, and sat down to wait.

And wait.

_...And wait..._

Minutes passed, and Vegeta didn't return. Bulma sat alone at the dining room table, clicking her nails against its surface, and waited even more for the Saiyan to make his entrance. _Before Tadashi made his cameo, the couple had been discussing dinner plans - hadn't they? Was she wrong to assume he'd still be hungry after all?_ The room was growing dark with the setting sun, and as Bulma's stomach began to growl louder with each passing moment she lost all of her patience. So much for a nice dinner with him - she was going to eat! When she finished her meal and Vegeta still hadn't shown up, she let out an exasperated sigh. It was obvious that he must have gone to a place that was nowhere near the house for him to have disappeared for this long! Feeling miffed, but reluctant to lose herself to anger, Bulma hastily put the food away (which took her nearly half an hour to arrange into the refrigerator) and marched upstairs.

She was alone in a strange, dark, house. Making her was through the upstairs hall she found herself walking into master bedroom. She'd had some of the workers from earlier rearrange the furniture, place a large white faux-fur rug onto the floor, arrange a few lamps to lighten things up, and hang a few paintings to give the ambiance more life. She would have to remember to bring some of her own things over from her parents' home in order to assert more of her personality into the décor! As of right now, this house felt more like a glorified hotel.

Realizing that she hadn't thought to pack a spare set of clothes, Bulma pulled her shirt from her body, dropped her pants, and crawled into his bed. She was too tired to care to find a spare set of clothes in Vegeta's closet. She'd was worn out from the commotion of the day, from the confrontation with Tadashi, from starving her body for hours as she waited for Vegeta to share a meal with her. Wanting nothing more than to lay down, she hadn't even cared to turn off the lights! Slipping under the covers, the soft blanket felt oddly cold against Bulma's nude body. The material was heavy, and it weighed against her enough to protectively press her into the mattress.

 _‘A down blanket_.’ She thought, turning to her side and staring straight ahead at a wall. The room was well lit, but the lights only acted to somehow make her eyelids feel heavier. She blinked back the feeling of being alone in a strange house… ‘ _When I first met Vegeta,’_ She thought, ‘ _He didn't even use blankets…’_ She nuzzled her face into the pillow. This was a down pillow, as well. He'd developed taste in the years since she'd known him... ‘ ** _I_** _was the one to introduce him to the concept of a down blanket…’_ She thought, closing her eyes... " _I wonder where he is…"_

… She wasn't sure how long she'd been laying in his bed, and before she could realize what had happened, she was fast asleep...

…

...She woke up at one point during the night, opening her eyes and realizing that the lights had been shut off. She stirred, disoriented, and rolled to her other side as she attempted to gain her bearings. She felt her face brush against something firm. Still half-asleep, she let out a muffled yelp. It was when she did this that the firm mass she'd been pressing against twitched, and she heard a familiar groan slur from the sheets.

 _Vegeta_.

Bulma caught her breath, realizing that she had her face pressed against his muscular back. He let out another low groan, not quite sounding awake. He turned towards Bulma then, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close into his chest in his sleep. With another groan his body grew less tense, and she listened to the steady rhythm of his breaths as he slipped back into his deep dreams.

She wasn't sure of what time it was, when he'd returned to the house, or for how long they had been laying together. Still only half awake, Bulma relished in the feel of his warm skin against her cheek. Holding her, protecting her. His relaxed stature assuring her that all was fine - everything was alright.

It took only a moment for her own slumber to return.

The sun shining through the open curtains was what woke her up. Her brows furrowed in objection as the light slapped against her face. Bulma reluctantly opened her eyes, cringing as they adjusted to the beams that were piercing through the window from the sky. Her pupils retracted, and her vision focused to see Vegeta directly in front of her, his own eyes already wide open. Her was looking right at her, gazing with concentration. It seemed that he had been watching her for quite some time before she'd awakened, the serious expression on his face showing something else behind his dark orbs.

In silence, they both studied each other for several moments. He looked as if there was something he was wanting to say, and Bulma was waiting for him to speak. She was wondering what time it was, feeling surprised that Trunks hadn't already woken her up. _How long had he been asleep, any way? Poor thing, he_ must be thrown off from the sudden change of schedule and environment. Or perhaps he was going through a growth-spurt...

She found that her mind was starting to wander so she forced the thoughts away, putting her focus back on the saiyan that she was laying with. Vegeta still hadn't spoken. Blinking back the remaining sleep that was on her mind, she decided to break the silence on her own.

"You were gone for a long time last night."

She kept her voice low, as if this sentence itself would be enough to finally wake her son from the other room.

The expression on Vegeta's face didn't change, his eyes still locked on hers. "I needed to train."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. " _Train_?" She asked. "You couldn't have told me that before you left?"

The Saiyan didn't bother to even blink. He didn't think that he really needed to elaborate on why he'd stormed off so suddenly. After Tadashi's sudden visit Vegeta had been _pissed._ Taking his rage out on a couple of battle bots was his way of calming down. Working out _relaxed_ him. She knew this.

"I waited for you all night, you know," She said. Bulma had a soft smile on her lips now, and it was obvious that she wasn't really upset with him.

… That smile of hers was always so alluring…

Without considering his actions, Vegeta placed a hand on her cheek. He thought back to the scene they'd shared in her own bedroom at her parents' house. When he had woken her up in the middle of the night and put his hand on her cheek. Back then she had flinched. And this morning, when he did the same thing, he noted that she didn't react. There was no pained recoil, no gasp of discomfort. Bulma let him cup her cheek, the smile still gently strung across her lips.

"You seem to be healing well." He noted.

Bulma nodded softly in agreement. "It feels a lot better… I still look like shit, though."

He grinned. "Such vulgar language…"

His breath was hot, and it slapped against her cheek as he spoke. It was with this that Bulma seemed to realize just how _close_ his face was to her own. There was but a mere gap between them, and it was incredibly easy for Vegeta when he chose to close it. It only took him to lean forward, just a slight bend of the neck, and his lips were brushing against her own.

Bulma didn't try to break away when she felt him. Why would she want to when it was all she'd wanted him to do? Just as with the night he'd kissed her in her room, she began to lose herself to the feel of his skin. She closed her eyes and pressed herself deeper into his chest, encouraging the kiss to continue. All of the waiting she'd done the night before, the meal she'd had alone, it all seemed worthwhile when she got to wake up like this.

Vegeta's palm began to move down from Bulma's cheek, sliding past her neck and further down her front. She found herself suckling at his lower lip when his fingers grazed against her bare chest.

_How long had it been since she'd been caressed in this way?_

Her own hands were tracing down the lines of his back, teasing his skin through the shirt he wore. His tongue was sliding through her lips now, brushing against her own and sending delightful quivers down her spine. She reciprocated the action and bucked her hips, massaging her lips against his and letting their tongues dance in a rhythm that was created effortlessly. Breathing heavily, all thoughts were suddenly cleared from her mind. All she knew in that moment was the feel of his touch, and the desire for more.

A moment later Vegeta tore aware from the kiss, bending to plant his mouth against her neck. He nipped at the skin lightly before cupping his lips over the arch of her throat and suckling. She let out a deep sigh with this, her skin flaring from the sensation. Hands instantly flew to his head, fingers digging into hair as she bucked against him. It seemed in that moment that every fiber on her body was standing with anticipation as his teeth sank into her skin, the Saiyan still sucking as she gasped. He didn't react at all as she gripped him, it seemed that he was so focused on the task at hand that he could care less about her digging her nails into his scalp.

His hands still on her breasts, Vegeta began to massage as he worked. It seemed that she was doing all in her power to keep from crying out, shallow gasps escaping her lips as she bucked against him in desperation. Deciding he'd teased her enough, the Saiyan broke away from her neck to run his tongue across her collar bone. Bulma threw her head back, this time with a muffled yelp. Biting into her lip, she was unable to bring herself to do anything more than simply lay at his mercy - to blissfully accept what he was doing to her with every move he made.

Just when she thought she couldn't handle the touches anymore, he slid up her body. His lips finding a place near her ear, his chest pressing against hers.

"Your wounds-" His voice low and hungry.

"-They're fine," She replied hastily, shivering as his breath fell against her skin. "I'm fine."

"Still…"

A second later she felt his arms wrapping around her waist. With a turn Vegeta was no longer on top of her. Instead he was now laying flatly on his back, pulling Bulma up on top of _him_. She opened her eyes, sitting on his lower stomach. He was looking up at her, his eyes sporting that deep faraway glint that she'd come to expect when he got into this type of mood. His hands were on her hips, a mischievous form at his lips.

"This might suit your injuries better." He smirked. "You know your body's limits."

It has been quite some time since Bulma had been in a position such as this, and never before had she been like this with Vegeta. She was surprised, having grown used to his primal side taking over and assuming all control during their encounters. She'd come to expect it from him, and she even enjoyed it when he would ravenously slam against her as she moaned…

… And yet, with this latest move of his, he was doing the exact opposite!

He was _submitting_ himself to her!

Bulma's hands had instinctively gone to his chest, which was still covered by the shirt he wore. And _why was he even wearing that damned thing?_ She found it interesting to think that she had fallen asleep nude, and yet he'd proceeded to crawl into bed with her fully clothed. Her fingers clasped the fabric and pulled. Vegeta made to assist her in removing his shirt, but instead of pulling it off he opted to rip it open at the chest and tear the fabric away.

On his legs he merely wore a pair of boxers. And as she sat back to get a better look at him, she could feel something pressing against her rear. Her eyes making contact with his own, Bulma raised an eyebrow. "This is different." She said, a slight smirk crossing her lips.

His hands rubbing against her abdomen, _The look_ still on his face, Vegeta's eyes scanned over her body. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and desires, his deep eyes piercing through her skin before moving back up to her face again. His pupils dark and his face stern, he licked his lips before he spoke his next words." _Do it_." He said. His palms still on her abs, one slid down to brush against her core. She felt as his finger slid against it, rubbing into a certain spot that made her throw her head back with a jolt. " ** _Woman_**." Vegeta's voice was husky and breathless, his fingers finding their way to her entrance and sliding inside with no hesitation. Bulma's eyes widened with a groan. She leaned back to allow him better access, her ass cheeks brushing against his member in the process.

_Fuck!_

The Saiyan could feel his teeth digging into his own tongue.

It was just as he had remembered and anticipated, as his hand began to work against her core. She was _warm_. She was _wet_. She was bucking against him as his fingers slid in and out of her form. She was testing him, but he fought to maintain control. There were so many things that his limbs were screaming to do, but he wasn't going give in to the primal lust that built within – he _couldn't_. Not in her current state. She was still hurt. She needed to seal the deed before he lost control.

" ** _Woman_**." He repeated. " ** _Do it now_**."

Bulma was leaning down for another kiss as she squirmed against his palm. Wrapping her arms around him, she slid her tongue against his chin with a moan. His eyes clasped shut at this. He clenched his jaw, feeling as she planted a peck on his lips. She was ignoring him – ignoring his requests to finalize the act. It seemed that she was enjoying the touch of his fingertips too much to stop, and that in of itself was turning him on even more. She was fucking him – fucking his hand as he lay there and watched!

Vegeta could feel his erection pulsating, his hips twitching with anticipation. In his ears he could hear as his blood screamed at him to take her. But he fought back the urge, instead pressing his body deeper into the mattress. His hand gripped her core harder, as if to warn her. He could feel sweat starting to form at his temple now, a tooth starting to ache from how hard he was grinding them together.

" ** _WOMAN._** " He grunted.

Bulma let out a breathless moan, arching into his hand in response to the added pressure he'd given her. He could feel as her breasts pressed into his chest, his finger growing incredibly wet with her increased pleasure. Her hips bobbed against him, her voice calling for more.

She was about to come – she was _about to come_ on his mere _hand!_ Vegeta's breath grew short as he realized. He hadn't even gotten to have his fun yet, and she was already trembling against his fingers and making a mess between her legs.

It was too hot.

It was too much.

_Fuck._

Vegeta pulled his digits out of his woman then. Bulma let out a cry of protest and fell against his chest, gasping. The saiyan grabbed the waistband of his boxers and ripped them away just as he'd done to his shirt. Her hips still quivering with the residual threat on an orgasm, Vegeta put his damp hand against her shoulder to push her back up into a sitting position. His fingers found her hips and guided her body down his own until her entrance was aligned with his member.

 _‘I told you to **do it**_ ,’ He thought, as he thrust up into her with force. He hoped the urgency wouldn't be too much for her. He slammed into that moist core, tasting blood as he bit into his bottom lip.

Bulma threw back her head and cried out as he thrust up against her body, and her muscles tightened around him sharply. Vegeta's hairline was dripping with sweat now, his teeth digging deeper into his lip. His hands shot out to grip the sheet he was laying on, fighting to keep from pounding into her even harder. Bulma rode out her orgasm with a loud moan, causing Vegeta's member to lurch. He clasped his eyes shut and turned his head to the side, his mind fighting with his own body. She felt so _hot_ as she bounced against him, she felt so _fucking good._

The saiyan couldn't bring himself to move. The animal instinct inside was yelling at him to grab her, hold her down, and screw her as raw as he could. And he didn't want that to happen – he didn't want to _lose control._ He lay motionless, a vein throbbing in his forehead as he willed himself to stay still. It didn't much matter that he was being so stiff - she was doing all of the work now on her own. Lost in a state of bliss, she moved against him and called out to nothing in particular.

Vegeta could feel the warmth of the friction building between them.

He could feel as Bulma began to rise and fall on top of him with added urgency - was she reaching her limit _again?_ She was holding onto his chest for leverage as her hips bucked up and down against him. He was fighting with all his might not to pound into her, meanwhile she was quivering and crying out for more.

His hands reached out to grip her breasts, his eyes still clamped shut. Thinking that the image of her bouncing above him wouldn't do to help him to maintain control of his instincts, Vegeta furiously fought to keep his lids closed. He could feel the sway of her breasts against his palm, the soft of her skin and the enthusiasm in her movements.

The friction, the feel, the sensation of their bodies together – it was proving to be too much for either of them. And when he felt her tighten around him once again, letting out a desperate moan in the process, Vegeta couldn't bear it anymore. His hands shot to her hips and pulled her further down, to sink onto his erection as deep as he could make her. Bulma nearly screamed at this, fulfilled and moaning as Vegeta thrust into her. He gritted his teeth and let out a primal yell as he came, a warmth shooting through the both of them as she wrapped her arms around his head.

She fell into him, into his chest, her respirations desperate and shallow. She struggled to catch her breath, shaking from the intensity of their encounter. Vegeta lay underneath, his grip on her hips lessening with each passing second. His skin was slick and his mouth was dropped open, his chest rising and falling underneath her as he recovered from his climax.

Bulma opened her eyes to get a look at him, sporting a weak smile.

"You're so sweaty." She said, breaking into a tired laugh.

He took in another deep breath and nodded, not bothering to verbally respond.

The Bluehead looked him over and sat back, admiring the way the light seemed to glisten on his chest with his perspiration. She had only ever seen him this sweaty after extensive sessions in the Gravity Room… But never because of sex! She smiled, thinking that perhaps it was because he'd really enjoyed being on the bottom. She was right, in a way, but she'd never truly know the strain he'd put his body under to maintain control.

"That was different," She whispered, falling back down onto his chest. Her cheek nuzzling into his pectoral muscle, she closed her eyes.

Bulma could feel as his hand found her hair and lazily brushed his fingers through it.

With a sigh, he spoke.

"It was necessary."

 


	29. A New Dynamic

It didn't come with much surprise that Trunks was awake and yelling for attention within a few minutes of Bulma and Vegeta's rendezvous. The baby howled from his room as the Bluehead, flustered and light-headed, pulled herself off the Saiyan and looked around in a semi-disoriented state.

"It's about time he's awake" She hissed frantically, looking around for a shirt to pull over her head.

"Go clean yourself" Vegeta grunted back, a look of irritation on his face from his post-orgasmic joy being disrupted so suddenly.

"But –" Bulma began.

"Let me have a few minutes in the bathroom, and then I will take him." The Saiyan stood from the bed. "The boy will train with me. _You_ need to shower."

It was true. Vegeta was still dripping with perspiration, but he wasn't nearly as _dirty_ as Bulma had become. And it _did_ make sense for him to wait and bathe after his training session. He was sure to get sweaty with his workout, anyway. And so, after a few minutes of tidying up, Vegeta emerged from the bathroom and set off to take Trunks with him into the Gravity Room. And, as he'd told her to, the Bluehead made to clean her body of the evidence of her morning shag.

And she did just that, enjoying the feel of the steam against her skin. She couldn't be sure just how long she spent lathering her skin with soap, her mind in a much different place. She couldn't believe all that had happened to her in that last week alone. Hell – she could hardly believe what had even happened that morning! Never before had they done _it_ like that. She'd certainly noticed how tender he'd touched her, how reserved and careful he'd been.

"Well. That was different," She had just finished running a towel through her post-shower hair. She hung the damp cloth up to dry, grabbing for a brush to run through her short hair. Was it too much to assume that he'd been so breathless and sweaty because he'd been fighting to keep himself calm during their fun?

They'd made love a number of times, after which he would end up to be a mix of winded and euphoric. As would anyone after a good session in bed. But Bulma didn't think she'd ever seen Vegeta look so _worn_ after a tumble. Was it connected to how different he'd handled himself during their shag? How careful he'd been? Was it _that_ hard for him to hold himself back?

‘… _Or perhaps_ ,’ Bulma thought with a mischievous grin. Vegeta typically never gave her much of a chance to take charge in bed – not that she could complain! Their sex was always amazing. But perhaps, now that she _finally_ had been the one on top, Vegeta had been _pleasantly_ surprised at what she could do. _Maybe_ she had just been _really_ good with her performance, and the Saiyan simply hadn't been expecting how intense she could be… Perhaps it was all her own doing, after all…

..

A week came and went in a way that felt both recklessly quick and incredibly slow. Time seemed to be never-ending when she spent entire days at home instead of going out to work. Unlike other occasions when she opted to not go into the Capsule Corp facility, this time she wasn't even working from home. Instead she was focusing all of her attention in growing accustomed to the newly rejuvenated relationship she had with Vegeta, and the fact that she'd seemed to just _move in_ with him overnight. One morning she'd left her parent's home to welcome the group of men that were arriving to deliver and help her set up things in Vegeta's house, and she just hadn't returned.

Of course, she'd seen her parents since then. She'd gone back to speak with her mother every day. She'd gone by to pack up her clothes and other personal items to take to Vegeta's. To share with her father what had happened with Tadashi. But she hadn't returned to her parent's house with the intention of staying, of _sleeping_ there. She returned as a _visitor._

She _loved_ living with Vegeta. The thought of it was enough to even give her stomach butterflies at times, a grin spreading across her cheeks without even realizing it. There were just so many aspects of moving in with him that she enjoyed, appreciated, and relished in. A great sense of independence that came with suddenly being a head of the household, especially as a _mother_ , was one of them. She hadn't particularly disliked living with her parents, but she realized that she preferred to approach things around the house in a much different manner than her mother. And now she had the authority to do it. This was just as much _her_ home as it was Vegeta's.

And she was still nesting in her new home, falling into a new routine, enjoying Vegeta's presence (which seemed a lot more relaxed when he was in his own "palace".) The Saiyan prince would take Trunks to train for a few hours each morning, until the toddler grew tired from the session and would lay down for a nap. The saiyan would then leave to train alone in the mountains until the early evening, returning in time to eat dinner with Bulma.

During their meals he would remain relatively quiet, as the Bluehead had come to expect from him. Despite how quiet they could be, they still engaged in their own version of table talk.

"So," Bulma said one night as she scooped some noodles from her plate. "How was your day?"

With a grunt Vegeta swallowed a mouthful of food. "The mortals on this planet are too sensitive."

The Bluehead raised her eyebrows as this, and turned to shoot an exaggerated wink at Trunks. The boy was sitting in his highchair and slapping his hands into his plate of food gleefully.

"A group of peasants found me today on my mountain. I demanded to know why they were spying on me, and they claimed that they were participating in some Earth hobby known as _hiking_." The Saiyan griped, rolling his eyes. "They were disrupting my training _right_ when it was starting to get really good. Of course I was pissed, so I told them that it would be in their best interest to leave at once! They were smart enough to do my bidding, but the screaming was a nuisance. What kind of cowardly man _screams_ like a baby, anyway? It ruined my mood!"

Bulma looked back down at her plate as the Saiyan spoke. Nothing that he did seemed to surprise her. "Well," she replied. "They probably weren't expecting you to threaten them."

"All I did was destroy a tree to show my superiority!" Vegeta continued, smirking now. "The fact that Earthlings find a simple _tree-smash_ terrifying is absolutely pathetic. You know that, right? On my planet, if destroying a tree was the only thing you were capable of, it deemed you a joke. But on this planet it's considered frightening! How sad!"

Trunks cooed at this, clapping his messy hands together with joy. Bulma looked up at the boy and smiled. "Oh, you finished your food already? Would you like more, Trunksie?"

"Yah!" Trunks crowed, clapping his hands together more enthusiastically now. The Bluehead stood and grabbed her son's plate to fetch him another serving.

This digression wasn't enough to steer Vegeta away from his topic of choice. "Even _you._ " The saiyan put down his chopsticks and pointed a stern finger at Trunks. "You, _boy_ , are already strong enough to rule this planet if you wanted to."

Trunks stopped waving his little hands in the air to look up at his father in an amused surprise.

"The difference between you and I is that your mother is too soft on you, _boy._ " Vegeta continued. "When I was your age _my_ mother would spar with me herself. And if I lost the match she'd be sure to punish me for it. By the time I was even walking I was tough enough to take on an army. You'd be able to do it, too, if your mother wasn't so soft on you."

Bulma had returned to the table now, setting Trunks' plate down in front of him. The boy squealed with joy and began to throw fistfuls of noodles into his mouth. He didn't seem to be considering his Daddy's point too seriously.

"There's nothing wrong with the way I handle our son." The Bluehead chimed in, a defensive curl underlying her words. "And there's nothing wrong with _our son!"_

Vegeta gulped down another mouthful of noodles. He stopped to take a chug from his glass of water. "I didn't _say_ there was anything wrong with you or the boy! I said he was strong enough to do a lot of damage if he wanted to." He replied, a matter-of-fact tone. "See, this is what I've been saying. You Earthlings really _are_ too sensitive."

Bulma rolled her eyes, and the rest of the meal continued in silence. She watched, fighting back a smile, as the two males in her life finished their food with determination. It was a non-traditional dynamic that she didn't find any desire to change. Vegeta spoke just as high and big as he always did, but she wasn't worried about it. There was something about his body language that told her he wouldn't actually follow through with any of his boastful threats unless he felt a need. Even if he had intimidated the hell out of a hiking party, she knew he wouldn't have actually _hurt_ them.

She and Vegeta flirted with each other during the day, and at night they would have a round (or two) of shagging before going to bed. Each morning she woke with messy hair and the need for a shower, and she found that she was more than okay with it.

One night Bulma was standing in front of the mirror before bed, running a brush through her hair. She was studying her reflection, noting how nicely her face had healed over the last several days. It had been quite the week, quite the change of pace, but she knew that she missed the intellectual challenge that came with her job. Despite how much she'd truly enjoyed her week off, she knew that she was ready for her days to consist of more. "I think I might be ready to go back to work tomorrow." She commented, putting her brush down on the top of her dresser.

A grunt came from the bed. Vegeta had already kicked off his clothes for the night. Wearing only a pair of boxers, he was reclined against the headboard with his hands behind his head. He's been watching her from his place, looking over her curves as she'd groomed herself. He grunted again, not sounding very pleased.

Bulma turned from the dresser to meet his gaze. "Is that all you have to say?"

She was wearing a silk robe that was tied tightly around her waist. It opened in the front just enough to reveal an impressive amount of cleavage, and the color was just pale enough that Vegeta could make out her nipples as she faced him. The style was pretty similar to another robe that he'd torn to shreds from her frame when he'd been lost in a state of lust. The Saiyan pushed himself up from his position to give her a stern look. "That beta male will be there."

Bulma shook her head. "He's _gone_ , remember? Dad let him go. It was inappropriate for him to come to our home so many times, and he ran out of second chances."

"Just because he was relieved of his duties doesn't mean he won't show up again." Vegeta sneered. His eyes were fixed on her chest, the small nubs of her nipples poking through the fabric. It was warm in the house, but it appeared that she was perhaps getting cold…

"I doubt it. He's just some goofy kid, it's not like he has bad intentions. And besides, we have security. Even if he tried something – _which he won't_ – he wouldn't accomplish very much." Bulma was rolling her eyes now, trying to seem stern, but found it hard to keep a smile from her lips. She couldn't deny that Vegeta acting so protective wasn't flattering.

"Whatever. You won't listen to me, anyway." The Saiyan frowned. "He'll be back, and when that happens I'll destroy him. Now come here."

Bulma put a hand on her hip. "You won't destroy anyone, _understand?"_

"Come here."

The Bluehead was grinning now, stepping forward slowly. "Promise me you'll let it go. He's just a kid and he's already had to learn the consequences of his actions."

"I'll promise to forget about him for _now._ " Vegeta's eyes had grown darker than normal, and the look on his face was firm. "Come here…"

When Bulma was less than a meter away from the bed the Saiyan stood and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her into him, his mouth closing in on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as his teeth dug into her skin, the robe slowly pulling from her body. Her fingernails began to dig into his back and she sighed.

She knew that they were done talking for the night.

..

She wasn't used to waking quite so early anymore, but Bulma pulled herself from bed the next morning with a focus. She was going to take a shower – no longer than 20 minutes – eat a rushed breakfast, get dressed, and leave with enough time to beat rush hour traffic. She was going to show up back to work with her head held high, and she was going to get a lot done that day.

Trunks and Vegeta were still asleep as she made breakfast. She was scrambling some quick eggs over the stove when she reached out to click on the TV. She'd been impressed when she'd discovered that Vegeta had made sure to have a drop-down TV installed underneath one of the overhead counters. The Saiyan didn't seem to care too much for television, but Bulma had certainly put it to good use. She'd made the habit of watching it every morning as she cooked, and today was not going to be any exception.

Typically she'd listen to the weather forecast to see if it was going to rain that day. It wouldn't do to have her hanging laundry get ruined due to bad weather. Today she was opting to listen to the morning news, instead, to get an idea of what to expect for traffic. She was feeling rather blissful as she flipped through the channels, landing on the local station in time for her to flip her eggs in the sizzling pan.

When the commercials ended and the station went back to the news, though, the Bluehead's heart seemed to stop.

The anchors on the TV weren't discussing traffic. They weren't even discussing the typical "heart-warming" story that morning news seemed to enjoy covering.

She turned off the stove and licked her lips dryly, the words coming from the TV registering in her mind. She wasn't sure if it was shock or anxiety that was building in the pit of her stomach as she listened to the story that was being told. Feeling somewhat light-headed, she left her face fall into the palms of her hands.

Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten. Realizing that what she was listening to was real, and that she somehow hadn't made it all up, she let out another sigh. "I guess I won't be going into work, after all" She muttered softly.

The news anchors on the TV were talking about _her._

 


	30. A Reason

She'd shut the TV off half an hour ago. Bulma was sitting at the dining room table, the room growing lighter as the sun steadily rose in the sky. A cup of coffee was sitting in front of her, and she stared at the wall straight ahead. Her mouth was shut, the room silent. All she could do was process what she'd listened to that had been reported about her. Rustling could be heard upstairs, and the Bluehead knew she wouldn't be alone for much longer. Still she stayed seated, bitterly letting her face fall into her hands for the hundredth time.

Suddenly a loud blaring noise filled the room, and it was enough to make her jump. Her heart pounding, the Bluehead blurted out an enraged curse. "Fucking ringtones!" She hissed, pulling her phone from her pocket. She was already on edge. She didn't need a sickeningly cheerful robotic tune to make things worse. But when she looked at the phone and saw Mrs. Brief's name on the screen she felt her spirit lifting slightly, and she clicked to accept the call.

" _Bulma, darling, I just wanted to give ya a head's up!_ "

"Don't worry, mom. I _know_."

A sharp intake of breath could be heard on the other line. " _Oh, deeear! You do? You want me to come over, baby? You know that mama and dad know the truth! We don't believe any of it for a second!"_

Bulma was tapping her fingers on the table as Mrs. Briefs went into a long motherly spiel about keeping spirits up and not letting other peoples' opinions affect her. She listened to everything her mother had to say, but the words did little to sooth her mood. Her mind was elsewhere, even as Mrs. Briefs offered a cheerful message of encouragement. It was simply that the Bluehead was still too upset. All she could really focus on in that moment was the impending conversation she'd have to have with her Saiyan prince. Bulma couldn't find much comfort in anything until that task got crossed off her mental 'To-Do List'. When she found the opportunity to get a word in edgewise, Bulma chimed in. "Look, mom. Maybe you can come by later. But right now isn't a good time. I still haven't told Vegeta-"

" **Told me what?** "

She jumped. She'd been aware that Vegeta had been awake, but she hadn't heard him come downstairs. The Bluehead glanced at him over her shoulder. "Oh, would you look at that! Vegeta's here now! Gotta go!"

And before her mother had a chance to say anything else, Bulma clicked off the phone. She tossed it on the table, watching as it slid a few centimeters across the surface.

"What is it that you need to tell me?" The Saiyan asked. He walked deeper into the dining room and stood so that he could face Bulma without her having to turn around. He looked more serious than she'd grown used to in recent days, and she sighed.

"Maybe you should have a seat."

The Saiyan growled. "Don't dawdle, woman. _What_ do you need to tell me?" Nevertheless, he took a seat across from her. Vegeta hated when secrets were being kept from him, and he was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. His mind was racing. It had gone to one place, and to one place only. They'd been doing _it_ a lot lately. He knew what could happen when two mammals mated. There was proof of that sleeping in a crib upstairs…

Bulma sighed. "Normally, in situations like this, we usually would ask the other person to promise that they won't get upset. But I know that's a large thing to ask – impossible to ask from _you_."

The Saiyan clenched his jaw. He knew where this was going. He'd thought it strange that she hadn't gone into work like she'd vowed to do. The grim look on her face was pale and made her almost appear to be ill. The way she was speaking now confirmed it all. And he didn't appreciate this sugarcoating. He was going to get straight to the point.

"This next one shall not be coddled as much, I'll say that right now." He growled, tapping his index finger on the table as if to emphasize his words. "It's going into the gravity room as soon as it takes its first breath. And the tail is going to _stay._ "

Bulma raised her eyebrows. " _What?_ "

The Saiyan's teeth were still grinding together, but his voice lost some of its confidence when he heard her perplexed tone. "What."

The kitchen clock could be heard clicking as the two watched each other for a few moments. Finally and slowly, Bulma opened her mouth once more. "What… did you _just_ say?"

It was obvious now that Vegeta had been wrong to make such an assumption. He furrowed his eyebrows and broke eye contact. "Nothing. Tell me what you needed to."

" _No, wait._ What in the _hell_ did _you_ just say?!" Bulma didn't like it when she was asking for an answer and wasn't getting one. She pointed a finger at the man in front of her. This twist of conversation was certainly making her forget about what she'd been upset about just moments earlier. Now the only thing on her mind was to get Vegeta to repeat himself, and to elaborate on what he'd been thinking. She had a feeling that she knew what he'd meant, but she wanted to hear it come out of his own mouth. "Tell me!"

"Damnit, woman! _You're_ the one with the secret! _You_ tell _me!"_ Vegeta hated this. He hated it when his woman had the upper hand. How had he suddenly found himself in a position where he had to admit he'd miscalculated a judgement? He'd come downstairs to eat before he started his daily training session, and already there was a load of inevitable bullshit that was being dropped on him. How else could he feel besides irritated?

Bulma zeroed in on the brash tone of his voice and forced herself to forget about his slip of tongue. She shook her head and sat back in her seat, clearing her throat. "You know how last night I told you not to destroy anyone?" She began.

"And I did not make any promises." He reminded.

The Bluehead grinned. "Remember how nice our night was after that conversation? Didn't we have _fun_? Maybe we can have a _second go_ before Trunks wakes up this morning!" Perhaps making him think of how often they'd been indulging in each others' skin would lessen the blow for him…

"The more you idle your way through our talk, the more evident it is that I'm going to get pissed. Now tell me. _What_ in Kami's hell is going on!?"

Bulma sighed. "You know how we have tabloids here?" She bit her lip, unsure of exactly how to say it. She hadn't even been the one to do anything wrong, but somehow she was having to reap the hard end of it all. Why couldn't she just get a break?

The Saiyan nodded. "Those laughable books that you and your mother are always flipping through."

"Yes – though I wouldn't exactly call them _books_ …" If Bulma still had long hair she'd been twisting it around her finger right now, a habit she'd developed long ago for when she was nervous. "Well, you know that we have tabloids and news stations… and they run stories about many things, which includes stories about celebrities – or, other well-known civilians…"

Vegeta nodded. "Although your planet has the lowest possible standards for their elites, I know. What does _any_ of this have to do with me? Why would I care?"

"Well, it turns out that today they're talking about me!" Bulma said, trying to force cheer into her voice. If reminding Vegeta of sex wouldn't lessen the blow, perhaps she could play it off to be less severe than it really was.

"What do you _mean? Why_ would they care to talk about _you?"_

"My family is pretty well known!" She couldn't help but to feel defensive. The Bluehead crossed her arms and sent an indignant " _hmph!"_ in his direction, but her gesture didn't seem to have much affect on the man sitting in front of her.

"Right. Your ancestors are the most worthy of the elitists that I have encountered." The Saiyan was speaking matter-of-factly now, though he still seemed irritated about it all. "But what would they have to say about _you_ in those books? Those stupid books you read seem to only concern themselves over how the elitists choose to dress their puny bodies."

"Vegeta – they're called celebrities here! Idols! Calling them elitists sounds kind of creepy." She slammed her hands down on the table. "And anyway, they aren't books! They're magazines! And none of that is the point! They were talking about _me_ today, and they were also talking about you! And none of what they're saying is good!"

Vegeta scowled at Bulma's tone and slammed his own hands on the table. "Don't condescend me, woman! If you would have just spit it out when I asked you to then I'd know what the hell is going on!"

Bulma stood now, exasperated. "There's pictures of my face being broadcasted, and they're saying that _you_ did it to me! Everyone's talking about me as if I'm being held prisoner and you're giving me daily beatings!" Her voice was trembling. Somehow it felt much worse to say it out loud, despite the fact that she'd been processing it for an hour now. She crossed her arms and turned her back to him. "There, I said it! Is that what you wanted!?"

" _What_?" She heard the chair being thrown back into the wall as the Saiyan stood. "What _is_ it with you Earthlings and this fascination with mate abuse?!"

Bulma reared around, feeling as if her face was going to explode. Somehow it seemed that everything he said was making her feel worse – even more on edge. Her hands balled into fists. "We don't approve of that, okay? It happens, we can't stop it, but we don't like it! The fact that everyone thinks this is going on is a terrible thing!"

The Saiyan snarled and marched from the room. "The idea that this is something that occurs at all on your planet is proof enough that you all are an inferior race!" He barked, his voice dripping with repulsion. He stomped into the kitchen and she heard as he clicked on the TV. The reporter's voice erupted through the room, repeating the story that she'd already listened to several times that morning. She walked to the doorway and leaned against the frame, watching as paparazzi pictures of Bulma's bruised and swollen face flashed across the screen. They must have been taken several days earlier, when her skin had still been worse for wear. By now it'd been healed enough that she could easily cover any remaining discoloration with makeup. The images on the screen, however…

"Our sources tell us that the daughter of Capsule Corp Mogul gave birth to her son last year. After getting married during a private ceremony, she moved in with the father of her child, and has been living reclusively since then. Our sources tell us that, while no apparent harm has come to the baby, she herself lives each moment in fear. Note the gashes on her right cheek, which an unidentified individual has provided us images of."

Pictures of Bulma hanging laundry in her backyard were floating across the screen. It was obvious that someone had trespassed onto their property and took the images without being discovered. To make things worse, they had obviously been altered to exaggerate her bruising.

"Now," The anchor on the TV continued, "We've reached out for a comment from Mrs. Briefs, but we've yet to hear back. I don't know about you, but no comment is just as good as a confirmation. May we all hope that she is able to find help for herself. This is a developing story, and more information is to come as we receive it."

Bullshit. It was all bullshit. Watching the news reports had been the first she'd heard of any such allegation. There were so many inaccuracies in their report, and on top of it all when had _anyone_ attempted to address contact her about this?

Vegeta was biting his lip, feeling as a vein began to throb in his forehead. He wasn't stupid. There was no way someone could have taken those images of _his woman_ without him sensing their ki! The only way could have happened was if the photos had been taken while Vegeta had been away from home, training in the wilderness. They must have been weak enough to not raise any alarm. Once again his absence had resulted in avoidable conflict for his kin, and it was pissing him off.

He'd known that the beta male wasn't to be trusted! He'd known that nothing good would come from such a coward! Vegeta turned on his heel to send Bulma an enraged look. "I **_told_** you to let me kill that Beta Male, and now look what he's done!"

Bulma pushed herself from the doorframe, her arms behind her back. She was torn between lashing out and apologizing. It was Vegeta's right to be upset – he was being accused of a very terrible thing. And yet she resented the fact that she was suddenly being put on the defense. "I didn't know he was going to run off to the news and tell them _this_!" She'd given the boy the benefit of the doubt. She thought that made her a _nice_ person – not a bad one. She shouldn't have to be defending that!

The Saiyan growled under his breath. He would have much preferred if the woman had simply told him that she was with child again. This was both so enraging and ridiculous that he didn't know how to handle it. His biceps trembled as he clenched his fists. He was superior to _every_ single person on this planet, and yet they were speaking of him in such a ridiculing light. More than ever he wanted to just fly into the sky and wreak some serious vengeance on those smug little rodents. It would only take him to raise his hands and power up, and the clouds would be raining his revenge. They would all deserve it for the bullshit he'd been through!

And yet, he _couldn't._ He knew he couldn't go through with something like that, even before the thought had fully processed in his mind. It wasn't an option. Something about the thought of destruction showering upon the land that he'd spent the several years living in didn't sit right with him. He'd fought to _protect_ this world - not tear it away. He enjoyed the mountains, the feel of the wind, the color of the sky when the sun was rising. There were many good things about this world. The creatures on this Earth just didn't deserve their own planet. They weren't fitting.

Vegeta didn't know what to do. On his home planet he had grown up with society groveling at his feet. His name was respected and admired, and nothing his family did could ever come into question. Never in a million lightyears would he have expected to be standing where he was now, on a relatively unknown rock, being scrutinized and degraded by a species that weren't worthy of licking the dirt from his toes.

How the _fuck_ had the Prince of all Saiyans gotten here?

He felt a hand resting softly on his shoulder, and Vegeta looked up.

_How long had he been lost in his thoughts?_

Blue eyes were peering into his own, and it was enough to sober him from the agonizing rage that had been sweeping through his core. The homesickness he'd been experiencing suddenly washed away, and for a moment he'd nearly forgotten why he was so pissed in the first place.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you." Her voice came out soft, but he could tell that Bulma was fighting to keep her own self calm. "I never wanted this for either of us."

He sighed and placed a hand over her own, keeping it to his shoulder as he gazed into her eyes. He'd been mentally searching for a reason – a reason that he'd had gone through so much in his life. Why did the pestering never seem to end? He wanted a reason for why he had subconsciously shaped his way of thinking, a reason that he had been ripped from his home land at a young age, had lived as a glorified slave. A reason for going so far, going through so many changes, and for ending up where he had. And just when he thought he couldn't search anymore, she'd been there to give it to him. It was _her._

"I'm sorry this is going on." She was saying now.

Vegeta sighed and let go of her hand. He brought his palm up to her face, cupping her cheek. His thumb massaged into her skin, and he gave her a smirk that almost seemed sarcastic when it came from him. "I'm glad that your wounds have nearly healed."

Bulma smiled back and nodded, closing her eyes and nuzzling into his hand.

His thumb still rubbing into her cheek, skin still against skin, she felt that there was nothing wrong. She _knew_ things were going to be alright, but there would be quite a bit of messy waters to tumble through in the meantime. It had been awhile, but this wouldn't be the first time that some type of scandal had befallen her family. Those types of things just _happened_ when your last name was well known. But, Vegeta, he wasn't used to the chaotic prying of Earth tabloids. He didn't particularly know what was coming! She felt for him, she really did.

And so she stepped away from his touch and opened her eyes, giving him another smile. "There's breakfast on the stove. Want some?"

The Saiyan chuckled. "Eating? At a time like this? I have other things on my mind."

And with that he turned to leave the room. Bulma watched him go with silent approval. It went without saying that he was going to be spending the next several hours in the Gravity Room. She would have gone for another tumble in the sheets if he'd suggested it. But if attacking some training robots was how he wanted to blow off his steam, she was okay with it.

Finding herself alone for the second time that morning, the Bluehead ran a hand through her hair. She poured herself another glass of coffee and walked back to the table. It went without saying that this was going to be a long day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know that when I started posting this story I mentioned that there were 42 chapters already written. I had said that all I was doing was proof-reading the content before publishing. Something I have noticed with these later chapters is that I've been making very minimal corrections to them. Because of that, I am not proof-reading as thoroughly. There may be some typos as a result, but the amount of time I am saving seems worth it to me. I am going to stop posting chapters for now, but I may try to continue in a few hours. 
> 
> At this new rate, the story will be updated all the way to chapter 42 either tonight or tomorrow. This story is not yet complete, but it'll be exciting for it to be all caught up! That means my updates will be less frequent as I work on new content, but they'll certainly continue! I've had a bit of writer's block, and proof-reading / posting this story on AO3 has really helped me tremendously with that. I'm excited to start on some new ideas once I finished getting you guys all caught up. :)


	31. Vegeta's Nurse

A thick line of blood was slowly oozing from the side of Vegeta's mouth. He was out of breath, his body spent. He didn't always train with such high gravity. Sure - he would increase it during his workouts, but he'd decided long ago that gravity wasn't _everything_ when it came to training. In the same way that fighting as an Ascended Saiyan had its disadvantages; so did training with gravity so high. It had taken trial and error, but the saiyan prince had come to realize that strength was just as much of a mental trait as it was physical. Gravity hadn't been the key that had allowed him to achieve Super Saiyan, and it hadn't been the factor that had enabled him to ascend from there either. No, he'd realized that Gravity was simply a tool to accelerate exertion, and that was what he needed in that moment.

 

He was pissed, and working himself until every ounce of energy was depleted was what allowed him to forget.

Today he had opted to set the machine to level 500, and he'd programmed his battle bot to run at full capacity along with it. Frankly, this workout was kicking his ass. But that had been the goal, and he was enjoying every minute of it. The saiyan prince let out a growl and charged up, his veins popping as his hair shot into a bright blonde hue. Nostrils flaring as he wiped the blood from his chin. Vegeta reveled in the resistance that his body struggled with as he fought to keep his posture. His quads pulsating as the room pressed hard against him. There was a stabbing pain that throbbed in his lower left rib, and he could hear the hum of the bot behind him as it readied for another shot.

A smirk crossed his face. This was kicking his _ass_ indeed. He would never admit how much has rib was hurting, and he let out a husky laugh when he pressed his hand again the wound.

This was turning out to be just what he needed.

..

She could hear shouting coming from outside. Bulma was standing by the window, peeking out from Vegeta's beloved red drapes. In the street was a mob of reporters and paparazzi, calling questions and remarks at the house as camera shutters went off relentlessly. Lights flashed as pictures were taken, and she stepped back from the window to mutter a curse under her breath. The media sure had gotten more extreme since she had been younger. What were they even getting pictures of at this point, anyway? She hadn't so much as stepped outside since the news had broken out. _How many images could they take of the front of the house?_

This was the third day that had passed since the rumors broke out. She hadn't turned on the TV since day one. There was no need to continue listening to the same story being told time and time again, with more exaggerations and lies added to it with each rendition. It was still only _day three_ , but she'd hoped that things would be simmering down. Instead it seemed to be getting worse. _The media really had turned into such a monster since the last time she'd experienced it!_

Her phone was ringing now, and she glanced at the caller ID to see yet another unidentified number buzzing on its screen. Another reporter had somehow gotten her contact information, and she clicked the " _decline_ " button.

A few moments passed, and suddenly the phone beside her was vibrating again. Eyebrows furrowed, the Bluehead turned to the phone with irritation. But her expression softened when she saw her mother's name on the screen. She clicked to accept the call, holding the device to her ear. "Hello?"

There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line. And then, seemingly _all-at-once_ , it began.

"Bulma – Ms. Briefs! Finally, we've gotten a-hold of you! What is your response to the-"

She gritted her teeth as she pulled the phone from her ear, pressing down the power button until it shut down completely. It was one thing that the paparazzi starting to ring her phone endlessly. But now they'd started masking the numbers they were calling from so they would match her parents'? The level of invasiveness was ridiculous!

She threw her phone down on the counter with a curse. Staring at it, she could hear heavy footsteps moving down the hallway from behind. The steps growing closer, she glanced over at her shoulder indifferently, but when she saw him she did a double-take.

"Vegeta!"

He almost appeared to be drunk, staggering sloppily into the room and collapsing onto his knees near the table. The Bluehead bounced from the balls of her feet to assist him, placing her hands on his shoulders as she leaned down. "Are you okay?"

The saiyan smacked his lips dryly and then pulled himself back up, ignoring Bulma's touch as he dragged himself into a chair. She noticed his actions and immediately made a dash for the kitchen. A moment later she returned with a glass of water in her hand.

Air was rasping through his nostrils as he fought to catch his breath. A napkin had been folded neatly on the table by his placemat, and Vegeta was now using it to dab the sweat off his saturated forehead. "Water," He croaked, lips smacking again. The saiyan threw his napkin down and cleared a dry cough from his throat.

"Of course," She replied, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him as she gave him the glass. Water was filled to its brim, and the saiyan downed it all in one swallow. He slammed the dish on the table, letting out a gruff breath as another jolt of pain rain through his bones.

"Are you hurt?" Bulma asked softly, though she knew how he would respond. This wasn't the first time Vegeta had come tumbling in after a workout, looking half dead but insisting that he was better than ever. In fact, he'd been doing this every day since the news had come out about Bulma's face. But this was the worst she'd seen him in a long time.

"I'll heal." Vegeta grunted.

Bulma bit her lip. It was just as she'd expected. He had very obviously injured himself, and now she was going to have to help nurse him back to health while he tried to act as if there was nothing wrong.

"Let me get you something to eat..." She made for the kitchen without waiting for a response from him. From the refrigerator, she fetched a plate that had already been prepared in anticipation for Vegeta's post-workout hunger. She'd been cooking non-stop since the news had come out – what else was there to do? Hiding away in this house – this house that she hadn't had the chance to finish even _moving into_ \- she had no lab or computer to get work done with. There was no mess for her to clean, no laundry that needed folding. And Trunks was only a distraction for her when he was awake. And even then, he was growing more independent by the day and wasn't as fond of her hugs as he used to be. So what _was there to do_ while the boy slept or played on his own with his toys? Why, there wasn't anything to focus on except for cooking! And as a result there was now a seemingly endless supply of tupperware and plates that were loaded with various cooked meals in the 'fridge. She was running out of ingredients to work with, but in their place she'd prepared nearly two weeks' worth of food.

She popped the plate into the microwave and pressed " _start_ ".

.

Vegeta was still sitting at the table, and he had his eyes tightly closed as if lost in thought. He didn't react when Bulma walked in with the first warm plate and set it down in front of him. But when she set the silverware down next to the plate he straightened his posture. Grabbing a fork, he opened his eyes and began to shovel food into his mouth. It was as if his life depended on getting as much nutrients into his system as possible, and she watched as he downed an entire plate in only a matter of seconds.

Irritated with worry, she wordlessly returned to the kitchen to fetch another serving.

.

Ten minutes, seven plates, and six glasses of water later, and Vegeta was sitting back in his chair once again. His hunger satiated, the saiyan was still grunting – but not with as much strain. Bulma was beside him, clearing the plates from the table and wiping away any residual crumbs. She could hear as the saiyan wheezed beside her, his mouth dropped open with furrowed brows. Giving him a side-glance, Bulma began to carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen. "You're going to drive yourself crazy, you know."

No reply.

Returning to the dining room after tossing the plates into the sink, Bulma could see that Vegeta was starting to slouch over the table. She approached him from behind, eying his figure as she went. When she was just behind him she paused, as if waiting for him to speak. And when he didn't say anything she crossed her arms, throwing a hip out to the side. "So. Are you feeling better, now?"

"I'm fine." A growl through gritted teeth.

"You don't sound _fine!_ " Bulma placed both of her hands on her hips now. "Honestly, you've been doing this all week and each day it gets worse!"

Vegeta choked out a laugh at this, pushing himself back in his chair. "I will never grow accustomed to how weak you humans are." He put his palms down on the tabletop. " _This_ is _nothing_." And with that, he used his hands to push himself to his feet.

He was only standing for a few moments, but he had stood nevertheless. A frustrated groan, and Vegeta was down on the chair again. The saiyan let out a string of muffled curses before putting his hand to his rib. Bulma noticed this action and raised her eyebrows, zeroing in on his hand and allowing the scene to register in her brain.

" _I thought you said you weren't hurt!_ " She hissed, rushing to his side and kneeling beside him. She placed her fingers over his wrist, eyes widening as she inspected his hand. It wasn't a lot, but there was blood curling between his fingers. " _Vegeta…"_

"Damnit, woman! I told you I'm fine!" He would have pulled away from her hold, but that would have required him to take his hand off his wound and reveal the injury. Turning his face away, Vegeta shot a stubborn glare at the door. Bulma was still gripping his wrist, and she gently began to tug at it. The saiyan has his palm locked to his rib, though, and her tugging didn't make his hold budge – not even by a millimeter. "Come on, now!" She said, pulling at his arm harder. "Let me see!"

Why wasn't she listening when he told her he was okay? Clearly he didn't want her to see his wound and twist the situation into such a big deal! He was trying to keep in mind that it was _her_ – _Bulma –_ who was insisting on having a look. But he knew that as soon as she saw his cut she would blow all things out of proportion, and create such a commotion over something that was obscure and a _joke_. To suggest that such an mere little bruise would be enough to down the Saiyan Prince was an insult! And yet because it was _her_ who was fawning over him, and not some lesser being, he tried to remain calm.

He tried to tolerate her interrogations to the best of his extent. Yet the more she tugged at his arm while he resisted, the more his patience was wearing thin. And finally, with one final yank, he had completely run out. "You're _coddling_ , Woman!" He snapped, a warn under his tone. He looked up at her from the door he'd been focused on, teeth gritting.

Instantly Bulma let go of his arm. Still kneeling, she leaned back to make distance between them. Vegeta could feel as a hush befell the room, his eyes locked with hers. He watched as her expression dropped, an ashamed sadness growing in her pupils. She stared at him quietly, her face openly expressing the hurt that was waving through her core at that moment.

 _A look of pain_.

The clock ticked in the background as they watched each other in silence. With each second that passed, her eyes seemed to grow more sad, and he hated it. She was the one who wouldn't listen and had insisted on prying, and now he somehow felt responsible for her own gloom. What was with this girl?!

Letting out a sigh, Vegeta cleared his throat. Without saying a word, he broke their eye contact to look down, Bulma following his gaze. A moment later she watched as he slowly began to pull his hand away from his rib. Her eyes widened as his palm seemed to draw back in slow motion, revealing a deep looking wound in its place. The bottom of his hand was coated in thick red blood, which he placed down on his knee as he straightened his posture. Vegeta had put his focus back on the door now, staring straight ahead as if to act that there was nothing the matter.

" _Oh._ " Bulma whispered, crawling towards him as she studied his wound. "Oh, _Veg-et-a_ …" Her words seemed to drip with horror as she spoke, and he felt as she placed her soft fingers against his bicep. "What did you _do_?"

"I told you that I'm fine." He grunted, brows furrowing. He found that he was unable to look at her face in this moment. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see it – not if it had any resemblance to the tone in her voice.

" _This isn't **fine** **!**_ " She breathed. "I _knew_ there was something wrong! Oh - why didn't you say anything earlier? _Why_ are you so _stubborn_?"

"Right," He cracked. "You choose to describe _me_ with that word, when _you_ are the one that will never cease with your relentless prying." She was speaking to him as if he were some type of delicate plant that couldn't withstand a slight breeze of wind. Overwhelming him with questions, speaking as if he were an inadequate child. And now she was going to call him stubborn? He just couldn't _resist_ pointing out the hypocrisy of her words. He hadn't been able to hold back.

" _Prying?_ " Bulma replied, her grip around his arm softened. "I'm only worried about your health."

This was ridiculous. In saiyan culture, if a male returned home with injury, it was seen as a sign of strength. To carry such scars without minding them was _proof_ of one's toughness. The ability to withstand pain. It was honorable, it was expected. And yet here his woman sat, acting as if he'd just committed to worse offense she could have imagined. This Earth culture was pathetically feeble! He should be receiving praise for his successful training session, _not guilt_! Finally, with a frustrated growl, the saiyan said " _My body_ is **_my_** _business_."

"How can you say that?" Bulma pulled away from him now, looking as if she weren't sure if she wanted to yell or cry. Her voice reached an even softer pitch, and she broke into a whisper. "Is it really _so wrong_ of me? Am I _that_ wrong to _care_ about your wellbeing?"

_Care?_

**_Care._ **

He looked up when she said this, and in the process he made eye contact once again. She was looking at him with those _big blue orbs_ – those pearls that seemed to deepen with grief as his words continued to sink in. Those blues that seemed to be filling with those _dreadful_ tears, tears that he never enjoyed seeing slid across her cheeks. Something struck Vegeta as he watched, and he found himself overtaken with a need to comfort yet again. It wasn't just the gloom in her eyes that did it for him – it was the _genuine disappointment_ he saw in her. The crestfallen lips that pursed as she lowered her gaze to the floor.

And just as she made to turn away, to give him even more distance, his hand shot out.

"Wait." He caught her by the wrist, gripping it firmly and willing her to look back at him. Bulma's eyes met Vegeta's once more, and he gave her a half-smirk. "There's a first-aid kit in the bathroom by the stairs. Your father insisted I keep it."

She raised an eyebrow expectantly. Was he really telling her what she _thought_ he was?

As if reading her mind, the saiyan confirmed her suspicions. "Go get it." He said, the grip around her arm loosening. Without hesitation Bulma jumped up to find the kit, and he allowed himself to fall back into his chair.

" _Woman_." He growled.

.

A few moments later the Bluehead was returning to the room, a white box in her hands. She was oddly surprised to see that he had taken the time to remove his shirt while she'd been away. He'd prepared himself! Sitting half naked, Vegeta was looking up at her, a strained grin. With such open permission Bulma knelt down beside him again, giving his wound a look-over. It was large in diameter, and it appeared that the blood was starting to clot as the bleeding slowed. She looked down at the first-aid kit in her hands, inspecting its contents. Spotting a small vial of rubbing alcohol, she popped it open with a click. Vegeta eyed the container. He'd seen that type of liquid before, and he wasn't too fond of it.

Bulma was liberally soaking a cotton ball with the alcohol now. "I would warn you that this might sting," She said. "But I'm not sure if it will, in your case…"

Vegeta didn't so much as flinch when she began to dab at his wound. His posture had already been stiff, and he waited patiently as she cleaned his injury. There was a soft sizzling sound that could be heard as she worked, the alcohol coming into contact with his blood.

"Hear that?" Bulma said, her voice returning closer to its normal tone with each moment that passed. "My mom always told me that it makes this noise when it's actively disinfecting."

The saiyan didn't respond. The cotton ball was cool to the touch, and the way she rubbed it against his skin was so gentle that it glazed across his flesh like a coy tickle. He watched her face as she worked, noting the deep concentration in her eyes as she inspected his wound. She bit her lip, turning to grab a clean pad of gauze to put against his skin. "I've never seen a scar this deep," She said, sounding nearly amazed. "My, Vegeta, you _really are_ something else…"

 _‘Of course,’_ He thought smugly, his muscles relaxing as he continued to watch. _Of course he was extraordinary. He **was** the prince of all saiyans, after all…_

A few moments later and she was done. Several layers of gauze had been taped to his rib, and she sat back to wipe away some hair from her forehead. "There!"

The saiyan was feeling less weak now, having had time to recuperate during this entire ordeal. He began to stand from the chair, wondering how long he'd been sitting in it. The sun had set in the sky long ago, yet outside he could still hear chatter as reporters huddled about the front of his house. He could sense them – those puny life auras that seemed to only be fueled with their rat-like needs to impose and spy.

Bulma clicked the first aid kit shut and stood, wrapping her arms around Vegeta as she found her balance. The saiyan turned to face her, allowing her to sink into his chest with the embrace.

"Perhaps it isn't _terrible_ to pry" He muttered, wrapping his scarred biceps around her.

And she accepted his statement as an apology. Coming from _Vegeta_ , that _was_ an apology.

"But those pests out there…" He continued, looking up at the wall. "When will they go away?"

Bulma had been relaxing into his hold, but when he said this she stiffened. It was apparent to her that the media was a lot more persistent than they had been even a few years earlier. She truly didn't know _when_ it would stop. And that thought worried her. "I think," She whispered. "I think we need to give them a few more days… And then we need to make an appearance."

His hold tightened around her. "What."

"We should give them a few more days to calm, and then we need to go out. We need to be seen together, as a _family_ , as a healthy pair."

 _This was the first time in ages that Vegeta could remember hearing Bulma use the word **family** to describe them. _He raised his eyebrows, looking back at her. After so many months of resisting, she'd been sleeping with him like mad lately, and she'd even referred to him as _family._

Bulma was looking at Vegeta, and she gave him what she hoped looked like a confident smile. "We can go to dinner somewhere. Sunday night. _Okay_?"

Sunday night? What a specific time. Perhaps she had performed calculations to determine that this night would be ideal for some reason? He found it interesting, but he didn't care to question her. _She_ was the Earth woman that was familiar with these tabloids – not _him._

"Sunday night." He repeated.

She smiled again, this time with more enthusiasm. She'd been telling the truth when she'd said that they needed to make an appearance together. But she hadn't told him the _entire_ truth. She hadn't explained why she'd picked _Sunday_.

Vegeta would be finding out soon enough.

 


	32. Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters in this story... so far! I hope you enjoy it. :)

"Remember," Bulma said. "We are supposed to be _calm_."

She was sitting with Vegeta in her bright yellow helicoptor, Trunks fastened in the back seat. They were in the garage, and she was gripping the controls before takeoff. She took a deep breath – _in and out_ – and turned to the saiyan sitting beside her. His arms were crossed in his trademark fashion, peering out the windshield straight ahead. "You should consider your own words." He replied, not bothering to look at her as he spoke. "You sound terrified."

The Bluehead forced a smile when he said this. She pressed the ignition, shaking her head as the helicopter powered to life. "I can't say this is the most exciting thing I've ever done." She'd been mentally preparing herself for this moment all day. A million different what-if scenarios had been playing through her head, and the fact that the night was going to be so unpredictable was scaring the hell out of her. "There might be a crowd to greet us when we arrive." She added, as if Vegeta hadn't already made the assumption himself. Letting out an audible gulp, the Bluehead clicked another button on the dashboard, which sent a signal into the garage. A second later, and a loud sound could be heard as the roof above them began to slide back, revealing a light blue sky above their heads. Slowly, the vehicle began to rise up off the concrete. And, a moment later, they were off.

.

"I hate crowds." Bulma sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt and peering out the window. They'd just landed on a helipad outside of _Nobun's_ , the most famous restaurant in all of West City. Just as she'd predicted – _and because she'd given an "anonymous" tip in order to ensure that they would be seen_ – a large mob of paparazzi were anxiously awaiting their arrival. They were shouting things as they gathered around the vehicle, waiting for the family to make their appearance. "There's so many of them…"

Vegeta, who had been considering the amount of people that were closing in on them, could hear the unease in her voice. Feeling on edge himself, he turned to place an assuring hand on her thigh. "I'm here." He replied, giving her a firm squeeze. "If anyone tries to touch you, I'll destroy them."

The feel of his palm alone had done wonders to sooth her anxiety. And when she heard his words, Bulma let out a soft giggle. "Remember – we need to stay calm." She said, pushing his hand away playfully. "The more _normal_ we act, the sooner they'll forget about everything."

"I'm always _normal_." Vegeta scoffed. He turned, looking back out at the crowd. "It's the rest of these idiots that are… _strange_. Hell, they're _abominations_. Look at them all, Woman! They're like rats awaiting breadcrumbs. I didn't know you had this level of power over your people!"

She let out another giggle, and Vegeta couldn't deny that he enjoyed the sound of it. He'd been half-joking with his words, but he was glad that they worked to subdue her blatant stress. After a week of such tension in the air with everything that had been happening as of late, getting out of the house felt – well, _good._ It was a bit of a relief be doing something so **very different.**

_Even if the two of them **did** hate crowds…_

"But, Vegeta, _seriously_ … Please don't hurt anyone tonight." Bulma continued, not believing for a second that her words would do any good. His actions would be his _own_ decision, and she knew it. "Even if it's justified; if you so much as _growl_ at someone, it'll be all over the news tomorrow. They'll jump on any slip-up you make, and they'll use it as fake evidence to support all the rumors that they've been spouting."

"I hate this planet." The saiyan announced, as if he hadn't already mentioned this countless times before.

Bulma grinned. "I _know_ you do. And I hate crowds! So, tonight we can _both_ be unhappy! We'll have something in common! It'll be great - but _please_ , just _don't_ hurt anyone. Okay?"

"I won't make any promises." Vegeta rolled his eyes. "If I need to destroy someone then I _will._ But I have enough sense to know how to behave."

"Of course!" Bulma was now managing to somehow nod and shake her head at the same time. The saiyan seemed to be in better spirits than she'd expected. She took a deep breath, grabbing for the handle of the door. "Here goes nothing… _man, I hate crowds!_ "

As soon as she stepped out of the helicopter she heard a rush of camera shutters and racing feet. Blinking back lights that were popping all around her, she turned to pull open the back door so she could unclasp Trunks. She could hear her name being yelled from all directions, and the Bluehead was suddenly feeling very claustrophobic. It was as if stepping outside the helicopter had equated to jumping into a tank of hungry sharks! She'd expected there to be a mob of anxious photographers when she'd given them a tip, but _this?_ This was _ridiculous_ , and it had _only been a few seconds!_

"Back!" Bulma heard Vegeta's voice from behind. It was when she'd finally retrieved Trunks that she turned, nearly bumping into the saiyan as she went. While she had been working on the carseat, Vegeta had moved to stand directly behind her, his arms outstretched as if to shield her from the descending mob. He glanced at her over his shoulder, a frown plastered across his chiseled jaw. Their eyes locked on one another, the couple silently exchanged in conversation.

 _‘I told you I'd kill them_ ,’ His glare hissed.

 _‘I hate crowds_ ,’ Her frown replied.

 _‘Ready?’_ He nodded a gesture towards the restaurant.

Feeling overwhelmed, Bulma nodded back. She clicked a button on her capsule and threw it to the helicopter, and a moment later was tucking the small pod into her purse. With that, the two began to make their way towards the entrance of the restaurant, Vegeta locked by her side as they went.

A man suddenly jumped out at Bulma, a pop of light going off as he clicked a shutter in her face. Stunned and temporarily blinded by the flash, she let out a small yip of breath. ‘ _What the hell?’_ She thought, blinking back the stars that were now dancing in her eyes. ‘ _This-This…This mother fuc-_ …’ But before the words could fully form in her mind, Vegeta had wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his frame protectively. "Back away!" He barked. Still overwhelmed, Bulma hugged Trunks closer still.

"Don't get so close. AWAY!" His fingers protectively held her close, as he lead her through the crowd. Despite the warn that flared in his tone, Vegeta's voice came out relatively muffled in comparison to the yells of the crowd all around them. She could tell that he was mustering all he had in him to keep from lashing out, and she was impressed. She'd pleaded with him to try and keep his calm, but she hadn't expected him to… well, actually _do it.._. _Vegeta really was behaving rather mildly, considering everything!_

"I told you all to **BACK AWAY!** " He suddenly barked, his voice breaking into a boom. Bulma's eyes dropped. Perhaps she'd given him credit too soon…

" **MY KIN ARE WALKING HERE! MAKE SPACE**!"

The angry saiyan only needed to shout his case once. Zeroing in on the thunder of his voice, each photographer jumped back to form a trail for the couple to walk through. Although they had allowed Vegeta and Bulma more space, the hounding didn't stop, as the flashing and shouts continued around them.

Vegeta maintained his hold around his woman as they made their way through this tunnel of gaping eyes. Only a bit more to go, and they'd finally be at the restaurant's entrance. Bulma hugged Trunks closer to her chest as they drew closer to the door. She had to admit that, although she was actively working to ward off an anxiety attack, she did enjoy having Vegeta as her personal body-guard. She couldn't _imagine_ what it would have been liked to crawl through this crowd on her own.

"Bulma! How's your face?" A camera-man yelled as she passed.

Her eyes widened, but she fought to maintain her composure. She stared straight ahead, determined not to react to the prying questions that were being yelled from all directions.

"Did he do it to you?" Another asked.

"If it wasn't this guy, then _who_ was it?!"

"Bulma!"

Not wanting to dignify anybody with a response, the Bluehead opted to drop her head back and nuzzle against Vegeta's. Perhaps this would send the message, as he moved his arm up around her shoulders to pull her in tighter. In all honestly, she was surprised at how open he was with this public-display-of-affection. Vegeta – the man of notoriously few words - had been _the one_ to grab ahold of her _first_. And he hadn't even flinched when she'd rubbed her cheek against his. He'd just pulled her closer, as if he were trying to send a message to the paparazzi himself, and continued to lead her through the mob. " _They're all a bunch of idiots._ " He growled in her ear, giving her an assuring squeeze. " _All of them. Every. Single. One."_

It was only a few seconds later that the couple finally made it to the door, though it had felt like an eternity for Bulma. They disappeared into the building, sighs of relief at having escaped the pests outside. Vegeta maintained his hold around her until they had been seated at a table.

Now across from her, the saiyan was still visibly tense. "What the _hell_ was that?" He said, mouth twitching.

Bulma shook her head, her heart still pounding from the commotion. "I told you I hated crowds!"

" _Crowd!_ " Trunks cooed in agreement from his high-chair, slapping his hands down on the table in front of him.

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." Vegeta was so focused on making his point that he didn't notice Trunks' contribution to the conversation. "That was – that was…" He said, his mind beginning to trail. Vegeta realized that he was having difficulty finding a good word to describe the ordeal. What the _hell was_ that out there? What the hell was wrong with this _entire damned planet_?! _That_ was **_normal_**?! When Vegeta had been prince of an entire planet, his name had been known and respected. His people knew how to address him – how to conduct themselves in his presence. If someone had been stupid enough to behave half-as disrespectful as the swarm outside had, they would have been tortured for weeks to make a point! Yet, on Earth, it seemed that everyone was used to behaving so inconsiderately of their elites!

 _What in the **hell** was **wrong** with this place!_?

As if to save him from his own bewilderment, a waiter suddenly appeared to ask some rehearsed question that Vegeta didn't care to listen to.

"We'll all have water, please!" Bulma sang.

 _‘What the hell_?’ The saiyan thought again.

.

A few moments later, and the waiter was back carrying the drinks in tow. But he hadn't simply returned with water - he was also carrying a _huge_ bottle of wine. Vegeta's eyes widened when he saw it. It was amazing that this drink was almost identical in packaging and hue as the alcohol that had been so popular among Frieza's men. He'd begun to assume that most Earthlings didn't consume alcohol at all – the Briefs family certainly didn't keep it in their house! And Vegeta, who never had bothered to immerse himself into the city's culture, hadn't been exposed to the substance since commencing his stay on Earth. And, in all honesty, he really hadn't even put much thought towards it! Vegeta had been so distracted by the many events that had occurred since his pilgrimage, that he hadn't concerned himself even once about desiring a drink. In fact, Vegeta was sure that he hadn't thought even _once_ about the beverage until that _very_ moment, and suddenly he felt that it had been _way_ too long since he'd had a taste.

"May it be our honor to present this gift to you both. We hope it'll help you to enjoy your night out. It's _on the house_ , of course." The waiter was saying.

"Thanks," Bulma replied politely, holding a hand up to turn him away. "But I'm driving tonight."

And, just as the waiter was about to leave, Vegeta chimed in. "She may be driving, but _I'm not_."

"Of course!" The server immediately popped the bottle open and poured an empty glass to its rim. He handed Vegeta the glass, set the bottle down in the center of the table, and gave a bow. "Please, _do_ enjoy. And let us know if you need any more. I'll give you two a few minutes to look over the menu." With that, he spun on his heels and quickly disappeared back into the kitchen.

Bulma turned to Vegeta then, eyes wide. It wasn't that she cared, necessarily, but he had never once indicated that he liked alcohol. In fact, she'd begun to assume that saiyan culture was so centered around physical perfection, that they wouldn't want to hinder their senses with mind-altering substances. She'd figured he was against such a thing. "You drink?" She asked, her voice curling with surprise.

"Not habitually." Vegeta picked up the glass and downed its contents with one gulp. "But after what you just put me through out there, tonight seems like the perfect night."

Bulma smiled. "You hate crowds too, huh?"

"Indeed."

.

Thirty minutes later, and Bulma was bouncing Trunks on her lap as he colored a piece of paper the staff had given him. The waiter was actively cleaning off their table, taking away their plates and commenting on how much they seemed to like the food.

"That's _all_ they've _got_?" Vegeta grumped when the waiter had disappeared back into the kitchen once again. He'd asked for them to bring out the largest entree they had, and in return they'd only given him a _single_ measly plate. The food had only been sub-par in quality, too!

"Most people only eat _one_ serving during meals," Bulma whispered. "Remember, we need to act _normal_."

"I _am_ acting normal!" The saiyan shot, his mouth wide with a smile. "It's the rest of this planet you should be worried about!" It wasn't that he was complaining about the circumstance of having such an empty stomach. He was simply offering _commentary_. In that moment, despite his disappointment, he was only able to see humor in the situation.

Absolute _comedy._

The Bluehead gave him a knowing smile. "How was the wine?"

"It **sucked**! It was much too fruity, hardly burned as it went down at all." Vegeta's grin was twitching now, as if trying not to laugh at his own words. " _That's_ what you mortals call it on this planet? _Wine_?"

That was it – he was unable to prevent the chuckle that escaped his lips. "What a suiting name! Everyone on this planet is so _whiney_ , aren't they? I'm not surprised at all. _Wine… you people call it **wine**._ "

"Oh, for goodness sake." Bulma rolled her eyes to keep from cringing.

"Even the drinks here have weak names. Tell me, Woman… Do the people here tend to **whine** for their **wine**?" Vegeta winked, his eyes silently laughing. He threw his head back as he downed the rest of his bottle.

"That's the _best_ pun I've ever heard." Bulma said, her words dripping with blatant sarcasm.

"Damned right, it _is!_ " Vegeta said, choosing to ignore the tone in her voice. He let out a husky laugh. "Some of the terminology on this planet is so ludicrous, I could just _puke_."

"Yes, well... Please don't. And perhaps we should order you another meal after all… You need to sober up. I don't mind you drinking, but I don't think I can handle too many of your ' _dad'_ jokes."

"I'm not _drunk_ – just _cynical._ " Vegeta didn't know what she meant with the term ' _dad jokes'_ , but he found he didn't care to ask. The saiyan waved his hand dismissively, leaning back in his chair. It was true – he really _wasn't_ drunk. It would take a lot more than one puny (and fruity) little bottle to intoxicate _his_ hardened veins. He was, on the other hand, feeling a _buzz -_ enough so that he could find humor in his disgust of this planet's backwards society! But he certainly wasn't **_drunk_** _._ Nevertheless, he decided that one bottle would be enough for the night, so he sat back up and pushed the empty glass away. Trying to think of a way to change the subject, the saiyan spoke the first thing that came to his mind.

"You specifically chose this day for us to go out. What was the reasoning behind that?"

Upon hearing this question Bulma's face lit up, as if she'd completely forgotten about it herself. "Well!" She looked down at Trunks and bounced him on her lap with more enthusiasm. "I just thought it would be nice to celebrate our little boy's birthday!"

" _Birthday_?" Vegeta whipped his head around at this. "You mean to say the boy is _only_ a year old?!"

Bulma shrugged. Her face dropped a little, disappointment starting to well in her eyes. "Well, yes – but no. Trunks _is_ a year old – but it's actually more like 18 months today. His _real_ birthday passed during the Cell Games, so we didn't exactly get to enjoy it then… And with everything else that's been going on - I thought celebrating this _half-birthday_ would feel just as significant."

Vegeta raised his eyebrows, looking at his son now as he turned his head. The boy was apparently approaching his second year of life, _already?_ The saiyan was suddenly struck with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. How odd it was to think that the boy had already accumulated so much time!

Trunks was cooing now, euphorically gnawing on his own fist as he concentrated on the picture he was coloring with his crayon. Vegeta turned his head the other way, studying the lavender-haired tot in front of him. "For someone his age, the boy doesn't have a lot to say. Why doesn't he talk more if he's so old?"

"Ol-d." The child replied, picking his head up to look his father in the eyes. His vocabulary was still quite limited, but he definitely could understand what everyone around him said! Should he really be _speaking_ more? Trunks had never really thought about such a thing as _age_ , and he certainly hadn't worried much about his communication skills. His _mommy_ seemed to have no problems understanding what he wanted! What was wrong with that?

As if sensing his bewilderment, Bulma leaned down to give him an affectionate peck on the forehead. She looked back up at Vegeta then, shooting him the same incredulous look that she always gave when it came to discussing their son's milestones. "I don't know how old _you_ were when you began to talk, but Trunks is developing just fine. In fact, look at what he's doing! What other 18-month old is able to draw and color like _this?_ His attention to detail is magnificent, just _look_ at how careful he is to stay in the lines! Get over it, Vegeta, our boy really is a _lot_ smarter than you want to admit. And you _know_ it."

"I was having full conversations with my comrades when I was half his age." Vegeta replied. He didn't acknowledge what she'd said about Trunks' intelligence, but it certainly added to the growing sensation he felt in his stomach. He didn't think much about this child's capability to create useless pictures with crayons, but apparently this ability was significant enough that it meant the boy was of superior intelligence? Interesting…

"Sometimes I think you just make things up to prove a point." Bulma was nearly laughing now. "According to _you_ , you were born walking. You were born talking. You were born fighting, and you _never_ had to meet any developmental milestones because it was all handed to you on a silver platter. Aren't you just _perfect_?"

She really was beautiful when she laughed. Vegeta found that her face was so _intoxicating_ that he wasn't insulted by her joke at all. Instead he gave her a wink, sitting back to nod approvingly. " _Perfect_ is an understatement."

"Don't worry, Trunks! Everything Daddy's been saying is just a lie. He's _just_ jealous, because he was probably still wearing diapers by the time he was 5. Wasn't he? Oh-yes, Trunks! I'll bet he _was!_ " Bulma had turned the baby around in her lap so he could face her, and the child was now giggling into his hand as she cooed.

.

Ten minutes later, after Bulma paid the bill and scribbled her name on a check, she pushed her chair back and stood from the table. Vegeta looked her up and down, following suit as he rose to his feet. She was cradling Trunks as she threw the strap of her purse over her shoulder. The saiyan walked around the table to wrap an arm around her waist, whispering a compliment about her appearance in her ear.

"You _really_ are drunk, I knew it!" Bulma joked in response. She wasn't used to him being this openly affectionate, and she was enjoying it.

"I told you I'm fine," Vegeta hissed back, though he wasn't nearly as confident about this as he had been earlier. It seemed that he was feeling more elated with each passing second, and he began to wonder if over four years of abstinence had made an ill-effect on his alcohol tolerance. _Oh well_ , the more time that passed, the less he cared. He ran a hand through her short hair as they began to make their way for the door.

"You _smell_ really good," He growled, pulling her closer as they went. Before she had a chance to respond, he pushed the door open so the couple could step outside. And, instantaneously, the family was once again surrounded by the yells and calls of paparazzi.

It was now dark, night-time having fallen while the family ate. But the slew of flashes that bubbled from the cameras did their part in lighting the path for the family to walk. Something about the popping lights worked to make Vegeta feel nearly dizzy as he walked, only adding to his cynical amusement about the entire ordeal. It'd been a long time since he'd felt his heart pumping like this, and he was starting to really have fun with it.

_And what the hell was wrong with this planet, anyway?_

"Bulma! How are you feeling?"

"Bulma!"

"What do you have to say? We want answers!"

They were _all_ yelling for _her_ – desperate to get her opinion, her words. They wanted _her,_ and they just couldn't have her. But he _could._ All Vegeta seemed capable of thinking in that moment was how _good_ it felt to have her walking so close to him, to feel her petite frame sinking into his own, to know that she was _his._ The imbeciles on this planet could think whatever they wanted, no matter how simple their delicate minds were, but at the end of the day she was evidently powerful to these weak creatures. They _groveled_ at her. And of all people she could have chosen to sire a son with, she had chosen him _. She was his mate._

She always _would_ be.

Vegeta was pleasantly surprised when the helicopter suddenly formed in front of them. He hadn't noticed when Bulma threw her capsule. And the distance to the helipad felt much shorter than he'd remembered! This was _great!_

"How old is your baby?"

"Do you think the stories are all lies?"

"Stop being so rude and say something! We have a right to know!"

The yells were deafening, as Vegeta watched her strap Trunks into his carseat. He stood behind her, trying to block her from the paparazzi's view as she worked. Trying to protect her from their taunts. They were taking an endless amount of pictures, their questions continuing at a rapid pace. The never ending flashes of light, reflecting off the metal of the vehicle, were starting to make Vegeta's mind feel as if it were swirling.

Yes, he was _pretty_ sure his head was starting to spin…

When Bulma stepped away from the helicopter and turned, he was waiting and ready. And he grabbed her then, feeling light headed. And he smiled. "How about we shut them up?"

"Don't hurt anyon-" She began to reply, but he grabbed her and pulled her in. Her eyes wide as she looked into his face, too shocked by his actions to react. "You smell _really good_ ," He said, leaning in to brush his lips against her own.

_And it worked._

Not another question or insult was yelled, a hush befalling the mob around them. Suddenly the flashes and shutters began to slurry with a quicker pace, like a thundering storm. Vegeta's tongue teasingly brushed across Bulma's lips – though the creatures watching would never know. She was grasping his shirt with pleasant surprise, his hands firmly holding her hips in place against him. Suckling on her lower lip now, reveling in her scent. After what felt like an eternity of bliss, but in reality was only a few seconds of joy, Vegeta pulled back to plant one last assuring peck on her forehead. "Get in the vehicle, _Bulma_. Let's hurry up and get home."

* * *

 

Vegeta sat in a barstool in his kitchen, downing a glass of water as Bulma worked above the stove in front of him. It was nearly 3 A.M., and the night had seemed to fly by in a blur. The saiyan was now completely sober, and he hated to admit how much the _wine_ really had gotten to him. He hated to admit it had made him quite _drunk._ When he was younger he'd been known to be able to down endless bottles of nameless drinks during victory celebrations, with the effects on his mind being quite minimal. It was hard to believe that _one_ mediocre sized bottle of fruity alcohol had managed to take over as much as it had.

He eyed Bulma's figure as she slid food onto a plate, turning to click off the stove. "This will help," She said softly, placing the entrée in front of where he sat. A dish that was nearly overflowing with steamed vegetables and grilled meat – and without a thought of hesitation the saiyan downed it all in one bite. She took a seat next to him, letting her hands support her head as she leaned against the counter. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fine," Vegeta muttered, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. His mind was no longer swirling, his inner voice now much more clear. The wine really _had_ gotten to him, and he found it interesting to think back on the events of the night.

He thought back on what had happened after their dinner – how he'd hurried his family back into the house when they'd finally landed in the garage. How he'd proclaimed that it had been one of the most amusing nights he could remember having in a long time. _How, at one point, he'd yanked Trunks from Bulma's hold so he could throw the boy into the air, announcing that one day his son would learn to fly, before catching the child in his arms as Trunks gleefully laughed._ How he'd _relished_ in his son's joy and threw him back up just to hear him squeal again…

…How, after bidding the child farewell, he'd watched Bulma carry Trunks upstairs to put him to bed. And how impatient he'd been for her to return to him empty handed… How he'd grabbed her, thrown her over his shoulder, and carried her upstairs when she finally appeared in the living room. How he'd thrown her on his bed, planted kisses down her frame, and ravaged her body when they were finally alone…

… How he could feel himself sobering up as they embraced each other, the sweet smell of her skin exhilarating to his senses. And yet, despite his clearing mind, he was in too good of spirits to care about ego anymore. How her warm skin seemed to tickle his own when he sank into her naked form, and how shamelessly he whispered compliments into her ear as he relished in her warmth. How _good_ she felt as she hugged him, gasping sweet nothings to the Saiyan Prince in reaction to his body, calling his name and begging for more as he gave her everything she asked. How fulfilling it was to have her moan as he bucked against her, until she seemed to melt into him like a delightful hot bath, holding onto him as if she needed every fiber in his body for her own.

…And Vegeta remembered, as he reflected on their night, how amazingly urgent it felt when he'd been reaching his own limit with their passion. How it seemed that, no matter how close he was to her body - how deep he was inside, the feeling would never be enough. His thirst for her would always remain insatiable.

Vegeta remembered clearly, as he had gasped through his own climax and slammed into her with such euphoria, the words he'd groaned in her ear.

" _I love you… **so much.**_ "

And now, as he sat staring at his empty plate, Vegeta wondered what she would say. It was a strange sensation to reflect on the behavior he'd taken part in while feeling a lot more than simply _buzzed_. Things he might have thought in the secret depths of his mind, but would never have allowed himself to actually come to terms with. He instantly knew that he wouldn't care if he _never_ drank alcohol again. He'd enjoyed while he'd been under the influence of it, but in retrospect Vegeta was ashamed to realize how much it had affected him after all. How easily it seemed to take control. Four years of sobriety really _could_ have quite an effect on tolerance…

He felt warmth as her hand placed over his own, and he looked up to see her exhausted Blue eyes smiling at him.

"I like it when you say that," She whispered softly, and he could hear in her voice how tired she really was after such an eventful night.

"When I say _what_?" Vegeta replied, feeling his cheeks growing hot. Was she going to shove his nose in the declaration he'd made – to demand to hear it again and again? To tease him with it, make fun? What more – if she asked him to repeat himself, _would he?_

His heart began to beat quicker.

" _Bulma_ ," She said, as if she could sense his discomfort and wanted to give him a pass. "I like it when you call me _Bulma_." She had a knowing look in her eyes. He _knew_ what she was thinking, and he found exhilaration that she wasn't going to actually say it. This woman really was wonderful, wasn't she?

Vegeta grinned. He turned his hand over so he could interwind her fingers with his own. "It seems my Woman has a name, after all." He teased.

"Right." She joked back. "Who would have thought."

And, with that, Vegeta stood from his seat. He gestured to the stairs with his head, grabbing _Bulma_ by the waist to lift her from the chair. "How long do you think we have before the boy wakes?" He asked.

"Knowing him, it could either be thirty minutes, or it could be seven hours."

"I suppose it's a gamble, then. Shall we go to bed?"

She let out a yawn, reaching her arms above her head and indulging in a big stretch. Vegeta grinned, watching as her tank top lifted to reveal the lower part of her stomach. "You look good when you do that."

A smile on her face, Bulma quickly lowered her arms back to her sides. " _Okay_ , you're obviously still drunk, aren't you?"

The completely _sober_ saiyan prince eyed her up and down. He allowed a trademark smirk to spread across his face. "I've told you so many times tonight," He replied. "I'm _fine."_

 


	33. The Afterglow

"Just a… little… more!"

The Gravity Machine was set to 525, and the room was humid with both sweat and heat. The Saiyan Prince pressed himself through another one-armed pushup, forehead wrinkling in concentration. There was no telling exactly how long he'd been working out for, and he didn't really care to keep track. As far as he was concerned, his routine would not be over until he lacked the capability to even pick his head up from the floor.

It was all Vegeta could do to clear his racing brain.

_How could he have been so thoughtless?_

He'd had more than enough slips of his tongue that night. The things he'd said to her, the things he'd _done in front of those cameras…_

That was it. Pushups just wouldn't do anymore! Vegeta let out a growl and rolled onto his back, gritting his teeth as he began on his ninety-eighth set of sit-ups that day. His abs were trembling under the added pressure of the gravity, but he ignored this and continued despite the aches.

He didn't have a chest wound this time. He was deliberately trying to keep from utilizing his battle bots to prevent another round of Bulma's distress so soon. Yet he's compensated enough that his body was strained and his breaths were coming out in chokes nevertheless.

It just _wasn't enough_ , though. Regardless of how hard he pushed himself. Those horrifying thoughts continued to invade his mind, no matter _what_ he did…

.

_Bulma was growing worried._

This was the third consecutive morning that she'd woken up to an empty bed since her and Vegeta's date night. Each time she opened her eyes to turn and see that he wasn't laying next to her, the pit in her stomach grew.

And it wasn't _just_ the lonely morning that had her unnerved.

It was the silent days.

It was the quiet nights that she spent solely with Trunks, waiting to see if Vegeta would pay her a visit before she fell asleep.

And he hadn't.

Bulma certainly wasn't stupid. She'd noticed it the week earlier – Vegeta had been taking his training to excessive limits ever since the news about them had broken out. But at least he had initially been returning from the gravity room at some point. At least they'd share meals together, and have conversations. At _least_ he had even gone as far as to take it easy last Sunday so they could go out together!

These last three days, though, had gotten much worse. He was training before she woke, and quite obviously working himself until after she went to bed. He would not show his face to her, not even to demand food.

For the last three days, Bulma hadn't even _seen_ Vegeta.

It was enough to piss her off. How dare he not even _speak_ to her for three days – especially after the way he'd spoken to her during their date night! How could he treat her like _that,_ and then completely disappear?!

Despite this frustration, there was an overwhelming sense of dread that manifested inside her core. Enough that it overpowered her anger. Enough that she found herself in a constantly anxious state.

_She'd encountered this type of behavior from him before._

He'd been much more open and verbally affectionate towards her in his intoxication than he typically allowed himself to be. He'd even _kissed_ her in front of the paparazzi – just to fuck with them! Was his current isolation a result of how he'd acted? Surely it was all too heavy to remember when he'd woken up sober the morning after. Hell, Bulma would be lying if she said that she'd never done something while drunk that she'd grown to regret! She had enough history with Vegeta to know how he handled stress. She had only recently started to move past the trauma from how much he'd pushed her away throughout the majority of Trunks' infancy, hadn't she? The shadow of deja' vu that had been steadily sinking in for the last week was now starting to get to her.

What bothered her the most was the fact that this was all happening _now._ After he'd spoken those words. After he'd told her that _he…_

… _He… told her that he…_

Bulma shook.

She couldn't even stand to remember those three words he'd whispered in her ear the last time they'd made love. How he'd held her close and let it out with a gasp. The sincerity in his voice. The emotion that she'd been completely surprised to hear come out of him… How truly elated she'd been, thinking that hearing those words was the best way to bask in the afterglow of his body.

And now…

It hit her with a sting.

She just _couldn't_ think about him being so tender during a moment like this. It was too much to take...

.

Vegeta let out a sharp hiss. It was partially in reaction to the muscle cramp that was pulsating through his bicep, and partially with irritation from the annoying alarm blaring through the Gravity Room. This was the first time he was hearing a call being received through that _damned intercom system_ that had been installed when the house was built. A nasally high-pitched tone, Vegeta made a note that he was going to have to demand Dr. Briefs to adjust this.

The Saiyan switched off the gravity machine with a curse, instantly feeling as the pressure gave way and his body suddenly felt lighter. He made his way across the room and pressed a green button to accept the call and put an end to that _damned_ ringing sound for one and for all. The large screen in front of him lit up, and suddenly appeared Bulma's face. "I wanted to speak to you," She said at once, "But I don't want to walk in there and have my spine crushed in order to do it."

Vegeta's expression remained neutral as she spoke. It really was uncomfortable to be looking her in the eyes so soon after what had happened between them.

The fact that he hadn't responded at all was disappointing to the Bluehead. He didn't even greet her with a nod. Bulma was pinching her earlobe now, a nervous habit that had manifested since her hair was now too short for her to twirl around her finger. "I wanted to ask you if you were planning on spending the entire day in there again."

"That is to be seen." He wasn't ready to talk to her. And he really did hate to be interrupted _right_ in the middle of a strenuous workout. _She knew this._

Bulma brought her hand down from her ear, and shot a glare directly in through the screen. It was enough to make Vegeta step back slightly, her pupils enlarged and exaggerated by the giant monitor. It's been quite a few days since he'd seen her eyes at all, let along to have them penetrating him in this way.

"Vegeta." She said. Her tone was stern, but there wasn't nearly as much anger as he had expected. "Listen to me. _You're going to drive yourself crazy._ " Reminiscent of the night she'd cleaned his chest wound. It wasn't the first time she had told him this.

Suddenly Vegeta was feeling defensive. His house was surrounded by pesky little men that were obsessively taking pictures, desperate to catch a glimpse of anything they did. She'd promised him that their night out would make those bugs scatter, but so far they still hadn't ceased their prying. That night had been one embarrassing slip-up after another, and for _what?_ Nothing had changed at all with those creatures! He was sure that the entire human race had seen the images of him indulging in her lips, and nothing good had come of it! And, on top of it all, he was still fuming with anger that hadn't been settled with that squirrely _beta male_. He was being held prisoner with his own rage, in his own house! And **_now_** she was going to give _him_ grief because he _just_ wanted alone time in order to cope with everything?

"Woman." He grunted. "If _I_ want to work so I can clear my thoughts, then I will. Understand?"

Bulma felt her heart dropping as he spoke. His demeanor in that moment was beginning to remind her of that cold and focused man who had once completely distanced himself from her because he'd been so fixated on training for the Androids. She didn't want that! _"But you can clear your thoughts with **us** , Vegeta. We can do this together…"_

Just when she was starting to relax around him… Just when she'd been starting to _trust_ him once again… To believe that he really would stand by her and not abandon her again. Just when she was starting to forget about that pain - _this_ side was coming out? Was he really going to fall back into that _now_? After everything they'd recently been through together? His instinct was still to simply _shut her out?_

As Bulma watched, Vegeta dropped his face. He seemed to be studying the controls of the intercom. "I told you I wanted to _kill him_."

There was so much tension in his voice – so much _hatred_ and _resentment_ that dripped from his words when he said this. She would have been an idiot to not have known the thoughts he'd been harboring inside towards Tadashi. But she couldn't bear to hear him speak like this – not when he seemed to be directing the blame at _her._ The ache of disappointment that was quivering inside was starting to make her feel light headed. She really had hoped he would have changed… "You did tell me that." She nodded with a gulp. "But you can't just kill people you don't like! And I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt... He was just a _kid_."

Vision was growing blurry now.

"I **_told_** you that he wasn't to be trusted, and you _always_ fought me on that point." Vegeta continued. "And right now I want to train!"

Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, but part of that was due to the anger welling up inside. She had no intentions of simply accepting his actions. She wouldn't put up with him falling back into _this_ again. How _could he_ be doing that after she thought they'd become more connected to each other than ever?! "If that's how you feel, then _fine!"_ She snapped back. "There's other ways to handle this, you know! You _could_ come inside and _we_ could figure everything out! _Together!_ But of course not, you don't want to talk to me. You don't want _anything_ to do with me or Trunks! You just want to train by yourself, and so be it! Have fun! See if I care!"

And with that, just as Vegeta was about to yell something back, the call abruptly ended. He had been taking in a deep breath, his hands balled into fists, and when the screen went out he let out a frustrated yell. The Saiyan Prince turned and shot a blast at the nearby wall, shouting a curse as he did so. Now _she_ was mad with him! And _he_ was more pissed than ever! How dare she talk to him like such a child? As if his training negated _everything_ he'd been trying to do for her?! Everything they'd done! He had built a damned house and allowed her to boycott the interior, for Kame's sake!

Her rant was digging at him from the inside as the words sank in. They reminded him of when they'd gotten into a fight while he'd been training in space. The words were all so eerily similar to the things she'd told him shortly before he'd found capability to transition into _Super…_

… _The things she'd said to him the first time he'd realized that he'd lost her…_

"Damnit!" Vegeta was going to have to compose himself before following up after that.

.

Bulma was balancing Trunks on a hip as she paced about the living room. Her thoughts were hysterical, and the rational part of her brain was fighting to decide how to feel. She was torn – torn between empathy and hurt. She understood his frustrations. How must it feel to have the entire media painting you as some monster? She felt terrible that this was happening, she really did!

But she couldn't be supportive of him coping in this way. He was pulling back from her, whether he even recognized this himself or not, and it wasn't right. It was what she'd feared the most when she'd resisted making up with him for so long. That overwhelming sense of abandonment that came with his silent hostility. She didn't need to go through it again… She was in a full-blown state of panic at this point.

Trunks was playfully slapping her in the face now to get her attention. "I want go! I want _goooo-oo!_ " He chanted, giving her cheek a tight squeeze.

"Hey! That hurts!" Bulma replied, snapping out of her thoughts and turning on her son. "What is it? What?!"

"I. Want. Go." Trunks seemed exasperated now. He'd been working to improve his verbal communication ever since his father had pointed out that he needed to talk more, and _still_ it seemed that it was easier to get what he wanted by using his hands! His mother hadn't even been listening to him until he'd slapped her!

"Okay, _okay…"_ The Bluehead grabbed his little wrist to keep him from popping her in the face again. "Where do you want to go, Trunks?"

The boy threw his head back and dramatically pointed towards the front door. He couldn't remember what that word was!

"You wanna go _out_ side?" She offered.

"Out." He agreed with a nod. Yes, _that_ was the word he'd been looking for! _Out!_ "I want!"

The Bluehead sighed. Not only did she feel for Vegeta in this situation, but she also felt bad for Trunks. He'd been confined in this house for the better part of a week, aside from their trip to the restaurant. He was a _baby_ – he needed to be getting fresh air and sun. He needed to be tiring himself out at a park, not hitting her because he was bored!

Now that she was thinking about it, what bothered her even more was that the idea of leaving the house at all unnerved her. She didn't _want_ to go outside, to weave her way through the paparazzi, and play with Trunks while hundreds of men took her picture.

 _Especially_ not when she was alone.

Not without _Vegeta…_

Bulma hated to admit it, but she felt completely vulnerable going out without him. To her chagrin, she was pretty sure that she'd shy away from taking Trunks to the park even if there _weren't_ ravenous paparazzi waiting to catch her every move. She just didn't feel safe. She didn't want to put her son in potential danger…

_Was she becoming a recluse herself in the wake of her attack?_

"We need to go out." She announced, grasping the boy more tightly. She _couldn't_ let it happen. Trunks deserved better than what he was currently receiving. She had to do it for _him._ She needed to get him away from the house. He needed to spend his childhood playing, as a normal _kid._ He didn't need to grow up in hiding. Trunks was going to play, and in the meantime she was going to have to think of a plan to steer the paparazzi away. For once and for all.

Twenty minutes later, and the two had already taken off in their bright yellow helicopter. By doing this she was evading the cameramen, who hadn't been expecting her to fly away. She had no intentions of taking Trunks to the nearby park at a time like this, to stand completely exposed to any potential pictures or attacks. The thought made her shudder!

No, they weren't going to the park. But she did know of a place they could go to get away for awhile.

A place where the paparazzi wouldn't know how to find her.

A place where she wouldn't feel physically unsafe...

 


	34. Paozu

Chi-Chi was completely taken by surprise when she heard the helicopter blades outside, which loudly whipped about in an angry manner. She was six months pregnant, exhausted, and hungry. Gohan had gone out only an hour earlier with a promise that for lunch he would catch her the largest whale he could find, and she'd been anxiously awaiting his return ever since. She forced herself up from the bed with a groan. Clutching her bulging stomach, the weak mother dragged herself to the nearest window.

"Oh," She said. Sure enough, Bulma and Trunks were outside. She watched as the Bluehead unbuckled herself and began to gather up the baby. Chi-Chi made her way to the living room just in time to hear a loud knock at the door. "Come in!" She called, not caring to exert the energy required to actually _answer_ the door. "It's unlocked!" The door popped open, and Bulma popped her head in to see Chi-Chi carefully settling herself down on the couch. She let her head fall back as she sat, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. She closed her eyes, catching her breath. The mere act of raising her voice was enough to leave her windless these days.

Bulma set Trunks down to play on the floor, and went to sit across from her friend. "How do you feel?" She asked, though she could already predict the answer.

"Oh, well…" Chi-Chi breathed. "You were pregnant with Trunks, weren't you? You know how it is."

"That bad, huh?"

Chi-Chi nodded. "Yup." She opened her eyes and picked her back head up to look at the Bluehead, raising her tired brows. "What about you? It's been months since I heard from you."

"I'm sorry. I've been meaning to see you more. I really have – it's just… It's been _so busy_ , you have _no_ idea…"

"Uh-huh." Chi-Chi nodded again. Her eyes were glossing over Bulma's cheekbones. There was still the hue of an old purple bruise across her face. She hadn't bothered to cover it with makeup before leaving the house that morning. Chi-Chi narrowed her eyes, trying to straighten her posture. "Gohan went to the city to get a new pair of slacks recently - he's been trying to find an honest job… He told me about some headlines he saw that were all over the newspapers…"

 _Of course_. Bulma let out her own tired sigh. She had been expecting this. "It's all a lie. Everything they're saying is wrong."

"Uh-huh." Chi-Chi repeated. She was shooting Bulma a questioning look, as if to say ' _If that's not what happened, then what's with the bruise?'_

Bulma didn't blame her. It was natural to be curious. Perhaps even suspicious. It seemed that Vegeta didn't have a very good reputation among any of the Z-Fighters - or their families. The Bluehead let out another sigh and ran a hand through her short hair. " _This_ didn't come from Vegeta – really. It didn't. I was… I got attacked. In the city, by some crazy man. It – it was really bad. Vegeta's actually the one who saved me – it was _awful_. Some kid saw my face after that and decided to run with it. You know how it is…"

"Ah!" Chi-Chi chimed, complete belief in her voice. "You _really have_ had a lot going on!"

"We _both_ have!" Bulma shrugged awkwardly.

The two women began to talk then – and they began to _really_ talk. Their conversation transitioned quickly, reaching far depths in only a short period of time. In the past the two women had been kind to one another, but never had been particularly close. Bulma was both surprised and relieved to be engaging with Chi-Chi on such a personal level, the mutual experiences in their lives bringing them both together. Though Vegeta was very much alive and well, Bulma could painfully relate to the hurt that Chi-Chi felt to be pregnant without the father around. The symptoms of carrying Saiyan DNA, the isolation, the pain. They had both encountered difficulties that the average person could never understand, let alone _believe_. It felt so _good_ to have someone to confide in.

It was apparent that Chi-Chi had progressed in her mourning of Goku. It certainly made things easier when she knew that he was enjoying himself in the afterlife, likely training alongside King Kai. But what hurt the most was the loneliness of his absence. The financial worry of raising two children without a steady income. The empty bed, the lack of supportive arms for her to fall into at night. Gohan tried his best to help around the house as much as he could – but in the end he was only a boy, and he was her _son_. It was a much different dynamic than it was to have Goku nearby. Goku had been her _lover…_ Chi-Chi was exhausted, and she felt very much alone.

Bulma regretted that her own personal issues had kept her from offering more support. She'd meant to do so much in throwing her a baby shower, and that clearly hadn't happened at all. She'd been aware that Chi-Chi would need her, and yet time had gone by much too quickly… And she felt guilty. As hard as she'd had it with Vegeta in the past, Chi-Chi's situation seemed to be exponentially worse. Chi-Chi needed a friend.

A sound could be heard coming from the front of the house. The two women looked up to see the door opening, and in stepped Gohan. "It's out front. Not as big as I was hoping, but it's the best I could find." He was saying, before he looked up. "Oh! Miss Bulma!"

The Bluehead nodded with a smile. Gohan looked just as drained and pensive as he had the last time she'd seen him. He was only an adolescent, and yet there was so much responsibility on his shoulders. So much age in his eyes. So much going on.

Trunks, who had been gleefully pulling the blankets off of Gohan's bed while the two women spoke, came waddling into the room at the sound of a new voice. He vaguely remembered Gohan from the previous interactions they'd had, but he _did_ remember how much he'd liked this guy. When Trunks saw his face he squealed, throwing up his hands with a delightful greeting.

"Hey, Trunks!" Gohan replied, a genuine smile stretching across his tired face. He bent down so he could be eye-level with the toddler. "How's it going?"

"Hi!" Trunks said. It had been a long time since they'd seen each other, but this nice guy had even remembered his name! Trunks decided right then and there that they were going to be friends.

"Well, I need to go get the fire started." Gohan announced, standing back up. "Would you like to join us for lunch, Miss Bulma?"

She felt bad to be eating their food, which seemed to be a a bit scarce. And yet, she was not ready to leave so soon. So she nodded and stood from the couch. "Oh course! Need any help?"

"No thanks. Just try to relax. It usually cooks pretty fast." Gohan made to walk back outside then, and Trunks let out a wail of protest. The toddler jumped up to go after him, making an incoherent noise that could only be described as the warning of a wrathful baby. Gohan glanced at the child from over his shoulder, looking up to give Bulma a hesitant nod. "Hey, is it okay if _he_ helps me, Miss Bulma? I think he wants to go outside."

"Of course!" Bulma said again. "But if he gets in the way, let me know. I think he likes you!"

And so, with that permission, Gohan held the door open and watched little Trunks waddle outside on his own. Bulma glanced out the window to see the adolescent as he carefully started a bonfire, pointing at it while he instructed Trunks of something. Bulma smiled as Trunks, a look of full determination on his face, backed away from the fire and scampered towards the whale that Gohan had caught.

_Those two would be good for each other._

.

Vegeta was in the middle of his 111th set of pull-ups when he felt Bulma's ki starting to drift away. He stopped, holding himself in midair with his chin touching the bar. He traced as her and Trunks' ki took off in the opposite direction of the city.

_Was she_ _**really** _ _leaving?_

"You've got to be _fucking_ kidding!" He hissed, throwing himself down from the bar and growling as his feet hit the floor. The Saiyan had _just_ been starting to feel well enough to go in and hash things out with her as soon as he was finished with that set. And now she was now flying away?

_What was with that damned woman?_

Sometimes he wondered if she was more hot-headed than Frieza had been. It seemed that _anything_ could set her off, and once she was pissed there seemed to be _no_ limits. She'd just been complaining because he had been taking time to himself, and now she was running off with their kid! As if that logic worked in any way! And what more, there really was no telling when she would return. Perhaps she would only be away for a few hours. But Bulma was stubborn as hell, and if she'd decided to do this as some way of making a point, she could be gone for days! He wouldn't put it past her to leave for weeks, even, just to return abruptly and say "There! How do _you_ like it?"

The altercation she'd had with that _freak_ in the city was still a pretty recent event. Vegeta wasn't sure if he was even comfortable with her going off on her own. What if something happened while she was out, and he wasn't there to keep her from harm – _again_? It was his duty to protect his kin, and he'd already failed at that once! Vegeta closed his eyes and tracked as her helicopter drifted even further away from the city. She was fire-tempered and impulsive, but perhaps she was acting rationally despite her anger. She certainly wasn't putting herself in danger's way.

In fact, it seemed she was heading somewhere safe… _towards Kakarot's old place_ …

Should he go after her, or should he wait it out?

She was unpredictable as hell. If he went after her, chances were she'd become even more enraged and yell at him for following. There was an equal likelihood, though, that if he chose to wait for her at home she would find that just as offensive. As he weighed the outcomes, Vegeta could even hear her voice yelling both " _What are you doing here? Leave me alone!_ " and " _You didn't even bother coming after me! You didn't care that I was gone! You don't care at all!"_

_The last thing he wanted was for her to think that..._

Vegeta let out a defeated groan, running a hand through his sweaty hair. She'd warned him twice now that he was going to drive himself crazy. What she'd failed to mention was that _she_ would be the one to ultimately do send him over the edge.

.

The sun was setting over Mt. Paozu, and Bulma was standing outside as she pinned clothes onto a line. The Bluehead had spent the majority of the day doing work around the house. She felt it was her duty to both Gohan and the dearly departed Goku to help take care of Chi-Chi while she was practically bed-ridden. It had taken hours of arguing on both womans' part, Chi-Chi being too proud to accept help, and Bulma being too stubborn to back down once she had decided on something. But ultimately Chi-Chi was pregnant with a saiyan, and her lack of energy had been the key factor in the Bluehead's victory with that argument. They had been going at it for more than an hour after they finished eating lunch, and finally Chi-Chi threw her hands up in the air. She was breathless from yelling, and she fell back into the chair she'd been sitting in. "I can't, I can't do this right now." She had gasped, closing her eyes. "I told you how I feel. Do what you want."

"I know, _I know..._ " Bulma had replied. She and Gohan both made to help lift Chi-Chi to her feet, offering support as they walked her to the bedroom and set her into bed. "You need to take it easy. Just get some rest. Don't worry."

Chi-Chi was still catching her breath as she pulled the blanket up to her chin. "We're fine. We don't ne-"

"I _know you're fine!_ " Bulma said. She was trying to be soothing as she spoke, but there was an angry undertone to her voice. "Gohan and you are managing just _fine._ But I'm here for a visit, and the more I can help, the more time Gohan will have to catch up on his studying later. _Right?"_

Chi-Chi smiled, clearly drifting off to sleep. "He's such a _smart boy…_ "

... And she hadn't woken up since. Bulma had sent Gohan and Trunks off to play and explore together while she began on five hours of housework. She had cleaned dishes, put away loose items, and mopped the floors. She'd even scrubbed the toilet! She'd done _nearly_ all of it on her own – but she had to put her foot down when it had come to doing the laundry. The Son family didn't even _own_ a washing machine, and Bulma didn't know how the hell to wash clothing without one. As soon as Gohan had returned with Trunks, the Bluehead asked him to do it for her. "I don't know what the hell to do – I can't. I just can't!" She'd said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "That's okay, Miss Bulma. I do it all the time..." And so Gohan took a few armfuls of clothes out back. And when he returned back into the house announcing that he'd finished everything, Bulma had rewarded him with the loose change she had been carrying in her purse.

"This is.." Gohan gasped, turning the money in his hands with disbelief. "Miss Bulma, this is too much."

"You did the laundry for me, didn't you? Now, I want you to take this and go into town. Spend it on groceries and other things that you guys _need._ But I also want you to buy yourself something. And make sure it's for _yourself_ \- something fun. Okay?"

"But, Miss Bulma…" The adolescent gulped. "This is… this is more than _a hundred-thousand zeni…_ "

Bulma gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, his eyes still fixed on the bills in his hands. "Trust me, kid. You deserve it. You've done a lot. Now hide it so nobody tries to rob you, and make sure you spend it all before you come back! You know your mother, she'll make you return it to me if there's even a small fraction of it left. Okay?"

Gohan looked up and saw the serious tone in Bulma's eyes. Slowly the shock on his face began to transition to delight, a wide smile spreading across his cheeks. "You're the best, Miss Bulma!"

"I know, I know… Now hurry along. You only have a few hours left before shops start closing. So go!"

And with that, Gohan had taken off for the city, leaving Bulma behind to hang the wet laundry out front. Trunks had fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from his experience wandering the outdoors with his new best friend. Gohan had introduced him to a lot of different things that day, and it was all too much for the little boy's body to take. He'd helped Gohan when they'd cooked lunch, clung to him as Gohan flew them through the woods, and even had carried as much as his little arms could manage as the two boys gathered firewood together. Trunks just wasn't used to doing so much walking, talking, and lifting in one day! He felt that he could sleep for hours.

And so it was just Bulma by herself, as she finished pinning the damp clothing to the line. She was happy to do her part for Chi-Chi and Gohan, but it had been quite a long and unusual day. She was mentally and physically exhausted, thinking that there would be nothing left to do once the laundry was dry and folded. She'd accomplished her goal – she'd done it _all._

It was night by the time she finished hanging everything up on the line. And she took a deep breath, lifting the empty laundry hamper to make her way back inside. She was just about to turn towards the house when she heard a rustling noise in the nearby trees.

Bulma picked her head up, glaring in the direction of the sound. Only the moon and the dim lighting from inside the house was illuminating her view, and it was hard to make out what the noise had been in the darkness. The rustling could have been many things – the wind, a rodent... a wild creature... or perhaps even a _person…_ The Bluehead clenched her jaw as her muscles grew tense, and she took an uneasy step back. Suddenly she was gravely reminded of just how _alone_ she was...

Flashbacks of being attacked in the city began to threaten the whites behind her eyes, and Bulma had to fight to swallow the lump forming in her throat. She felt so vulnerable... and she hated it.

"Who's there?" She called, thinking that her voice sounded much more confident than she really was feeling in that moment. She clutched the hamper, as if it could act as some type of shield.

The rustling grew louder, and Bulma couldn't help but to flinch. She opened her eyes just in time to see as a familiar shadow began to step out from the trees.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! For the record, from what I could calculate, the money that Bulma gave to Gohan should be equivalent to about $1,000 USD. And that was just her pocket change! Life must be great when your last name is Briefs!


	35. The Moonlight

"Vegeta." Bulma breathed, dropping the hamper she had been holding.

 

Aside from the obvious help it was to Gohan and Chi-Chi, the housework Bulma had been doing all day had really taken her mind off the fight she'd had with Vegeta. In fact, she'd hardly thought of him at all as she scrubbed the floor on her hands and feet. The distraction of physical labor had done wonders on her own anger. And now she stood, directly across from the Prince of all Saiyans himself. Seeing him now, especially after a terrible scare of being alone, was nearly too much to take. "What are you _doing_ here?"

He stepped further out from the trees. "I came to see when you were planning to return." He grumbled, dusting off his arms as he went.

This was the first time she was even seeing him in person since the date night they'd shared together. Despite how upset she had been with him that morning, she was now only glad that he was approaching her. Eyes widened, Bulma's lips seemed incapable of forming the words she was looking for. She had truly believed he would be spending another week (at _least)_ in the Gravity Room before coming out to speak with her.

"Well?" Vegeta continued, a frown pursed across his lips. He stepped closer still, marked disapproval on his face. "Were you planning to drive your point home with an iron fist?"

"Vegeta," The Bluehead breathed again. She was about to smile – she felt as it threatened the muscles in her cheeks, but she refrained. She was truly glad to see him, but he was right. She needed to send her point home. Hands to her hips, Bulma turned her head to the side with mocked anger. "I'm surprised _you_ even stopped training long enough to notice I left!"

Vegeta took a silent pause when she said this, looking her over in the moonlight as he crossed his arms. He raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk of his own. He knew she was faking it – that was as clear as water. If her terrible acting wasn't what gave it away, then it certainly was the calm of her own ki. "Where is the boy?"

"Well… Gohan is in the city." She dropped her defenses, putting a hand to her chin as she thought. "Trunks and Chi-Chi are both asleep. Honestly, we were going to head back as soon as Gohan got home."

"I see…" The Saiyan dropped his head back to look up at the sky. As if he were considering his options.

A moment later, and he moved closer to grab her arm. He pulled her away from the clothes line, giving a light tug to indicate that he wanted her to start walking. "Hey!" She resisted, trying to keep her voice down so it wouldn't wake the ones who were asleep inside. "Didn't you listen? Trunks is in there!"

"You said the boy is asleep. I want to show you something."

"Well, _yeah_ , but what if he-"

"If he wakes, I'll sense it. That boy has a temper that borders your own, Woman. He'll be fighting the cushion he lays on when he realizes you aren't there with a meal."

" _My temper?_ Oh, look who's talking!" But, nevertheless, her posture relaxed and she allowed him to guide her further away from the house. When they were a good distance away Vegeta turned, pulling her body into his own. She thought he was about to kiss her, but his hands wrapped around her waist instead.

"Ready." He muttered. It wasn't even a question.

"For what?"

He lifted her then, arranging her in his arms so he was carrying her bridal style. "Hold on."

Eyes wide, she quickly understood what was about to happen. She wrapped her arms around her neck and buried her face into his chest just in time for him to take off. Neither of them exchanged words while they were airborne, but they weren't flying for very long. She still had her face nuzzled into his chest when the Saiyan's feet came back into contact with the Earth. She looked up curiously to see where they had gone. "Wow!" She gasped, jumping from his arms before he even had the chance to set her down.

Vegeta had taken her to the bank of Mt. Paozu's lake. There was a river which came to the end of a cliff, from which water steadily fell down into the lake below. Only the sound of the waterfall could be heard in the still of the night, the moon reflecting off the swirling surface. Full and round, Bulma looked up at the sky were her large eyes.

"I've never been here at night." She breathed, turning back to Vegeta. "It's _amazing…"_

He was watching her with that serious expression of his, as if lost in deep thought. Slowly, he opened his mouth to speak. "You know, the full moon carries a great significance to my people."

"I know."

He continued eying her face, studying her soft features that paled under the moonlight. In a daze, he looked back up into the sky to take another look at the round sphere that was illuminating them so quietly.

He raised his eyebrows in realization, suddenly struck by an odd thought.

 _Where in the hell did this moon come from, anyway?_ Hadn't it been _destroyed_ long ago, before his first battle with Kakarot? Yes – now that he thought of it, he specifically remembered the anger he had when he initially learned that this planet didn't even have a Moon! So where did _this_ one come from?! What the _hell_ was it doing hanging over the night sky _now?_ There was some type of plot gap here… He was going to have to look into that…

_Well, nevermind that now…_

He turned back to the Bluehead standing before him, thinking that they had some speaking to do. But it wasn't yet time for that… Not yet. Without a tail, Vegeta was no longer capable in changing form under the light of the moon. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't struck with strong instincts upon gazing up at the night sky, standing beside _her_ , with her hand lightly gripping his arm…

"I'm happy you came!" Bulma was saying now, breaking Vegeta from his own thoughts. "You're allowed to take time to yourself, and I don't want to make you think you shouldn't… I'm glad you do… I just wish you would at least let me say _hello_ to you once a day. That's all I need. I just don't want to go a day without seeing you…"

In response he grabbed her hand, looking it over carefully before sliding his fingers between her own. "Well in my defense, I do have something to confess." He growled, smirking. " _I_ am a complete **_asshole_**."

Her eyes widened at this, but before she had a chance to respond he had taken her face into his hand. Running a finger down her cheek, he studied her glossy eyes and thought, _once again_ , that her Blue orbs were the most intoxicating thing he had seen in all of his days of living. His hand was trailing over her shoulder now to clasp around her back, admiring the crevices of her torso. She took the initiative to close the gap between them with a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her chest against his own. Vegeta's hands were now traveling down the arch of her back before finding their way to the bottom of her shirt, giving it a slight tug.

"I'm a fool." He growled through their kiss. And in that moment he wasn't sure if he was referring to the mockery he'd made of himself during his drunkenness, or if he was referring to how he'd yelled at her earlier. She hadn't deserved it. Perhaps he was an idiot for _both._

In response she broke the kiss, taking the opportunity to nuzzle her face into the arch of his neck."I'm glad you came," She whispered, as if that settled it all. This was the closest he'd ever get to actually going out and saying ' _sorry'._ This was _his_ way of apology, and she appreciated it. He was still tugging at the hem of her shirt, and she stepped back to pull it off.

Clad in only her bra and pants, Vegeta looked her form up and down before pulling her into him again. She really _did_ look amazing, especially in this moonlight. A hand went to her rear, and he began to guide her towards the water. Without speaking he removed his own shirt, tossing it in the soil below them. "I have a question for you." He growled, kicking off his shoes.

He didn't need to ask her. Bulma had already slid out of her pants, understanding fully that they were about to go for a swim. She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "I should probably remove _this_ too?" She asked, a finger sliding under the strap of her bra.

Vegeta responded with a smirk. "If I did it myself, I'd probably rip it."

"Well don't do that! This one's my favorite!"

He watched as she unclipped the back, tossing it onto their growing pile of worn clothes. They were both completely naked now, and he wrapped an arm around her bare waist. "I told you. I have a question." He hissed, pulling her into the water.

It was cold, but not uncomfortably. Bulma thought she'd get used to the temperature after a few minutes. She was taken by surprise when Vegeta pulled her deeper in, to the point that her feet were no longer able to touch the bottom of the lake. He protectively wrapped his arms around her, keeping her head above water as he swam them both out towards the stream that was dropping from the top of the cliff. "Woman. _I have a question…"_

She nuzzled into his chin now. He kept saying this. " _What is it?"_ She finally replied.

" _Have you ever been **taken** under a waterfall_?"

"When would I have?" She lipped his jaw.

"Interesting… _Good answer_." With that he pulled her even further into the lake, and Bulma couldn't help but flinch eagerly as the first drops of water plummeted directly over her head. She let out a joyful little squeal, which served to make the saiyan smirk as the cold water rushed through his own spiked hair.

It hardly took any effort for Vegeta to keep both of their heads above water, having mastered the act of swimming long ago during one of his first purges under Frieza. The planet's entire surface had been covered in water, the inhabitants all living on the ocean floor with their webbed feet and stony homes. Vegeta, having been younger than Gohan at the time, had spent nearly two days swimming as he and his crew went after the toady creatures. It had been a pain in his ass at the time – but now, years later and after all of his experience, he hardly had to even move his toes in order to stay afloat. This made their moment even better, since he was able to focus all of his concentration on the woman in his arms rather than efforts to keep them both from going under.

"Are you cold?" He breathed, his voice taking on the husky tone that always came with lust. His lips were so close to her ear now, small bumps curling across Bulma's skin as his breath brushed against her cheek.

"I'm not." The Bluehead replied with a grin, running her nails down his back. She nudged her hips against his excitement, which had formed long ago and was now braising against her skin as he held her tight. The water was still running over their heads, which had now completely drenched them as she curled into him with a pleasant sigh.

"You lie." The saiyan replied, moving them through the waterfall and to its other side, placing her against the stone wall that lined the cliff above their heads. The water continued to rush around them, creating a loud barrier that enveloped them away from the rest of the wilderness. "You seem _cold_." His hand palming the goosebumps on her thigh.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Bulma teased, closing her eyes at the feel of his calloused hands. He trailed his fingers up to her chest, closing in on her protruding nipples and offering them a light pinch. "You sure _feel_ cold."

"I'm not." The Bluehead sighed, bringing her own hands around to rub down Vegeta's toned front, her fingertips pressing into his lower navel and eliciting a low growl from his throat. Although the saiyan took his time in exploring Bulma's body, he didn't typically let her engage in much foreplay with him in return, usually cutting her off before she got too far. This time, however, she was surprised at how he reacted, tightening his grip around her breasts and letting her actions go uninterrupted.

"If you aren't cold, then this means something else." Vegeta smirked, massaging his thumb into the nub of her nipple while she continued her own exploration of his body. "Woman. You're so _vulgar_."

"I am." Bulma lowered her fingertips even further, tracking down his pleasure trail before stopping at his base. "I don't think I'm the only one…"

Her breasts were suddenly abandoned, Vegeta's hands dropping into the water so he could focus on the lower half of her body without offering a verbal reply. Bulma could feel as his fingertips protruded against her core, and she bit her lip to keep from rocking with encouragement. Her nails pressed into his skin, lightly lined with short hair that seemed to massage her fingerprints as she beckoned her touch towards his excitement.

Slowly. Teasing.

Her actions seemed to be working, for Vegeta let out a deep groan, his own hand cupped over her core. "So _vulgar_." He repeated, a finger sliding through her entrance as his palm worked to massage her sensitive bundle of nerves. Upon feeling the inside he let out another groan, moving his mouth against her ear once more so she could her his whisper. "You aren't just dirty – you're sopping _wet_."

"We're in the water." The Bluehead grinned coyly, her fingers _finally_ wrapping around his erection and giving it a firm squeeze.

Gritting his teeth Vegeta bucked against her hand, sliding another finger inside her body. "Water isn't _this_ wet, you naughty little Earth creature." His fingers twisted inside, curling up to hit the most sensitive spot she could imagine and causing her to moan out. She responded by giving him a single tug, which ended with her fingers pressing against the tip of his swollen member. The saiyan clamped his eyes shut, fighting back the urge to yell out a curse, and retaliated by grabbing one of her breasts with his free hand.

It was then that Bulma began a stroking rhythm, riding her hand all the way down to his absolute base before dragging her palm up to his tip once more, jerking his body with a slow and steady pace. Vegeta had never allowed her to get this far in their foreplay before – he had always slammed into her by the time she'd gotten to this act – but now he seemed to be completely lost in the moment of it, his hand softening inside her core and even bringing it out so he could grip her other breast.

He always gave her plenty attention of his own, but never would he allow her to return it in this way. The Bluehead never could tell if it was some type of cultural aspect for him – perhaps it wasn't considered dignifying for a saiyan male to be given such treatment? Or was it just Vegeta's personality to not want such attention put on his own body? Whatever the case was, he was letting her do it now, and she intended to take as much advantage of it as she could before he decided to seal their act. She offered his dick another squeeze with her last stroke, pushing herself out from the stone cliff wall and stepping against him so her chest could press into his own.

"I'll show you how much I am capable of." She said, giving him a push to indicate that she wanted them to switch positions. He obliged, stepping around so that he was now the one leaning against the stone, and she gave his body a look over. It was lucky that they had managed to find a ledge to stand on, for she wasn't sure if she'd be able to enjoy this as much if she were having to put concentration towards staying afloat in the water. But her feet were touching surface, and she could approach his torso with utmost confidence as she pressed her face against his chest and let his scent in.

The saiyan's mouth was pursed, and she wasn't sure if it was because he was stifling a reaction, or if it was because he didn't want to admit how much he was enjoying letting her take control. She ran her hand across his navel, looking up at his face from his chest and lowering her head further down. "You haven't seen half of what I can _do_ ," She teased, and she could see his throat lurch as he most obviously swallowed down a gulp, his hands racing to her shoulders with eager curiosity.

Sex was so straight forward, wasn't it? Two creatures filling each other with their assigned body parts, offering pleasure just as intensely as they received it to satisfy their biological cravings. What could she be hinting at other than what they'd already taken part in? She spoke with such confidence that Vegeta's mind could only begin to race, thinking that perhaps he had underestimated the creativity of Earth customs.

He had just closed his eyes with anticipation, when he felt it.

"LsiÖthµshlœ!" He croaked in an accent that was entirely too foreign to have been from an Earth language, and Bulma fought back a grin of her own smugness as she took his member in. Her tongue was running along his shaft, having just circled around his tip affectionately before she sank deeper against his body. She'd had to put her head in the water in order to take him in, but she could still hear his reaction from above. Holding her breath, she took in as much of him as she could manage before triggering her gag reflex, and she grinned at how stiff his hips felt in reaction. She began to ease her mouth back off his member, lips curled tightly around it as he grunted something else above.

He let go of her shoulders, too worried that he'd crack a bone from how hard he wanted to grip them. He wanted nothing more than to thrust inside the humid warmth of her mouth, and that was enough to steer him away. He couldn't trust himself not to lose control and hurt her! Vegeta pulled back, pushing her off of him, breathing so hard that he nearly choked. Bulma rose back to her feet, wiping water from her eyes before looking up at him curiously – perhaps she'd misconstrued his exclamation as one of pleasure? Was something wrong?

"What the _hell_ was that?" The saiyan gasped, his chest glistening with more than just residual water. If he had said it in any other way Bulma would have been offended, but he sounded so delightfully surprised that it only made her smile.

"Don't underestimate me." She wrapped her hand around his erection threateningly. "I've got more…"

"I know." Vegeta replied, and this was exactly why he needed to cut her off. She was going to overwhelm his instincts with her actions, and he needed to stay in control. He grabbed her hips and swung her around so her back was against the stone wall once more. "I can't believe how _naughty_ this Earth woman really is…"

He took no hesitation in thrusting into her, and she threw her head back with a cry when he did. He was thick enough that her body hadn't been made for it, and no matter how often they'd been engaging lately it always required an adjustment. His hands moved up to clasp her cheeks as he began his rhythm, eyes locked into her own as her body writhed against his.

It seemed that each time they found each other's body he would touch her with more tenderness, look at her with more raw fire, handle her with more expertise. He moved against her now with such a steady and firm pace – not too slow, nor too hard – and it only acted to send her into space with such quick efficiency. It seemed that with each encounter he understood more about her – what made her moan and what type of speed she enjoyed. And now he was looking at her, cupping her face, thrusting into her with such confident determination that made her stomach well and rendered her incapable of words.

She remembered the last time they'd done it, and it was then that he'd spoken three words to her that she'd been wanting to hear for so long. She knew he had been drunk then, and she knew that it wasn't like him to repeat himself, but she also knew what he'd said had been true.

There was no denying it – the absolute care in his pupils as he stared into her face now, wordlessly breathing as his own climax approached. She closed her eyes at the feel of his tongue against her collarbone, arms wrapped protectively around her form as he began to pump against her with a more quickened pace.

He was filling her with every part of him, the spark dripping from his callouses as his hands ran down to her hips and began to pull her closer against his own. The frustration he'd been fighting with among all that their family had been going through in recent weeks. The pain he always seemed to struggle with when he was pulled between his ego and his emotions. The unspoken vows they'd made to each other long ago, which they had both stood by when the other needed it the most. She had been there to hold him accountable when he'd been at his worst, and he had been there to hold on when she had lost all hope.

It didn't matter if he never said it again, for as he groaned against her hair and emptied his lust inside her petite form, she knew it was true.

_He loved her._

Bulma let out a cry of her own, taken over the edge not only by her thoughts but also by the feel of his member lurching inside. The waterfall was still streaming around them, offering a blanket of muffle that ensured not even a passing dear would hear her calls as she trembled into him. His hands were now curling around her face once more, his weakening erection still lightly thrusting into her as he allowed her to ride out her pleasure.

Gasping and panting as she rocked against him, she nearly let out a sob from the intense emotion overcoming her body as she came. Vegeta seemed to sense this, for he planted a firm kiss on her forehead, his own breaths still steadying back to normal. She opened her eyes to see that he was still looking at her in _that_ way, his rough thumb caressing her cheek, and she smiled.

Perhaps his own mind was running with similar thoughts, for he didn't say much else to her in the moments after their bond. He took her hand to guide her back into the waterfall, offering her a quick shower as he held her protectively. Running a hand through each others hair, as if to wash away the guilt so nobody would notice when they returned, the Bluehead couldn't help but lay a head on his shoulder as he carried her back to the shore.

_She really was glad he came..._

..

An hour later, and Bulma was pulling herself out from the shore. She ran a hand through her sopping wet hair, feeling a chill as the wind hit her in the shoulders. "I need to dry off before we head back, otherwise it'll look suspicious. Can you help me start a fire?"

Vegeta was walking right behind her as they went. "Perhaps," He said, stepping out from the lake. "But there is something that might work better." Her put an arm around her shoulder, lifting his other hand into the air. She listened, as a soft sound began to slowly hum around them. A moment later, and she could swear that she saw a golden hue forming around them. Her eyes widened, and she looked up to see that they had been encapsulated in some type of giant orb, heat radiating around them. She remembered the golden energy that would surround anyone who had become Super, and she wondered if perhaps this what was it was like. She turned as if to confirm, and was surprised to see that Vegeta's hair was still showing black. He had his eyes closed with marked concentration, but otherwise seemed completely unperturbed, his breaths calm and his muscles relaxed.

Her instinct was to squeeze her fingers around his arm. But she fought the urge to do this, thinking it might break his focus.

_How Amazing…_

A moment later, and the two of them were completely dry. She listened as the humming noise died down, and the golden hue around them began to dissipate. "How did I not know this about you?" She whispered. She turned to look at him with awe.

"There's plenty about me you are unaware of. With all you know, you've hardly even scratched the surface."

Her eyes lit up when he said this, and on her face she began to sport the most childlike and innocent smile he'd ever seen her make. "I love it!" She breathed, absolute joy and admiration in her eyes. "I love _everything_ I learn about you!"

_Love…_

He felt a pang then, instantly reminded of the profession he had made to her the last time they'd been so close. He wondered if she remembered it – but then, he thought, of course she would. Bulma remembered _everything_. Yet she hadn't mentioned it at all. In fact, she hadn't even acknowledged that it had happened. As if she hadn't heard. As it had simply gone in one ear, and out the other…

He remembered, years earlier, when she had confessed her own feelings of _love_ to him. In fact, she had told him this in such an early stage of their relations that she hadn't even been gestating with Trunks yet. He hadn't handled it well at all. _And that was before their ship had even **been** built well enough to sink_. Before all of the turmoil between them really started. The last time she told him this he had abandoned her for his journey into space. And she hadn't mentioned it since.

_Did she still feel that way, after all of this time? After everything they'd both done?_

"He's awake." Vegeta said suddenly, putting an end to their quiet moment alone. "And Kakarot's son is approaching. We need to go back."

.

Vegeta was completely blindsided by the sadness he saw in _her_ eyes.

Kakarot's wife, who was much more disheveled and fatigued than she'd been the last time they'd crossed paths. She sat in front of him, morose radiating from the ki that enveloped her. There were black circles under her eyes, from which two dark orbs peered at everything around her with such melancholy that it almost appeared as if she hadn't seen joy in years. She looked tired, but it was much more than physical. She watched everything with such distaste. As if nothing surprised her anymore. As if she'd lived her entire life four times over, and was ready to move on. It made his stomach turn.

Things had evidently gone to _hell_ since their last visit.

"Bulma, I can't thank you enough." She was groaning, running a hand across her stomach. "I'm sorry – I wish I could do more."

" _Listen, damnit!"_ Bulma was hissing in response. "We've already talked about this. It's fine! You'll be proud to know that Gohan got a lot of studying done today!"

It was obvious with the look on Gohan's face that this was a lie. That boy had done anything _but._ And yet this seemed to be the only thing that calmed the frail mother, who smiled as her eyes rolled back into her head. She sat back on the couch, her head lobbing to the side slightly. "I'm sorry," She breathed, a smile gracing her lips. "I don't know why. I feel much worse today than I have felt this entire pregnancy…"

"You used all your energy up when you were fighting me." Bulma reminded, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice. "You don't remember trying to hit me with the broom, do you?"

"You gave her some good swings, Mom." Gohan chimed in, as if this would help the situation.

"Yeah… sorry." Chi-Chi smiled, dozing off in front of them all. "I just _really…_ didn't want you to have to… _help…"_

Bulma rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath of concern. "Gohan, we need to put her back to bed. She's still loopy."

"I can take care of her, Miss Bulma." Gohan said. "You've done enough to help us today, _really!"_ He gestured to the refrigerator, which had been filled to its brim with a fresh supply of groceries that would last the family for weeks.

Vegeta eyed Kakarot's boy, disgusted with the sensation that was forming under his tongue. That boy had really been holding the entire home together on his own. Would this have been Trunks' life, had Vegeta chosen an alternative path?

_Had he done this to Bulma when he'd left them before?_

It was sickening.

"Mr. Vegeta?" Gohan asked, breaking the Saiyan from his thoughts before they had the chance to get too deep. "Before you leave... Can I ask you something? Outside?"

Vegeta crossed his arms. He knew what this would be about. In reality, he was surprised it had taken the boy this long to want to speak with him. "Fine." He smirked, nodding towards the front door. "You'd better make your point quick, boy."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, perhaps I should have warned that this chapter would have some explicit content. Oh well, that would have spoiled things!


	36. Thirteen

In the darkness and up close, Vegeta's face was even more intimidating than Gohan remembered. Looking into that humorless glare of his, the adolescent was starting to rethink asking to speak with him in private. The ever-present scowl that was chronically sealed on Vegeta's face appeared as if it would rear back and bite at any possible moment, even in a pleasant mood. The man was absolutely unpredictable, and Gohan - who hadn't been exactly sure of _which_ words he would use in the first place - stood still as he considered the situation.

 _Was it even worth asking?_ He'd probably just get blown off!

As if reading his mind, Vegeta suddenly stepped forward, unsheathing the whites of his teeth. "Well? What is it, boy!"

Eyes widening, Gohan was always torn between disdain and awe when this supposed _saiyan prince_ addressed him. It was as if two worlds were pulling at his arms, trying to will him to follow two paths. The man had never even been kind to his own father, even after his death! And the way Vegeta held himself made Gohan want to both punch him in the face and grovel on his knees. It was confusingly amazing. ' _And why,'_ One of the reasons in his head beckoned. ' _Why does he always talk as if there's a stick up his rear?'_ Gohan didn't typically think of people with such a regard, but this man really had a way of getting under his skin. "I just wanted to ask for a rematch!" He snapped suddenly, feeling as the rage began to win its fight on his body.

"Oh?" Vegeta grinned. "It took you long enough, didn't it?"

"Yeah, well." Gohan could already feel the sweat at his temples. _Vegeta really did have a talent for doing this to him._ "In case you hadn't noticed, I've been _kind of busy_."

Letting out a forced laugh for effect, Vegeta stepped back to wave a condescending finger. "Do you really think I will accept that excuse? You know exactly where I live. I know you've sensed my ki when I've signaled for you."

Gohan raised his eyebrows, trying not to show his surprise. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he really _had_ noticed Vegeta's ki since the last time they'd met. It always seemed to stay in the same geographic area, and there had been certain days when it especially caught the boy's attention. Vegeta's ki would peak dangerously high, then rapidly deteriorate before rising back up again. Gohan always attempted to ignore it when these instances occurred, though it was difficult. The way Vegeta's power seemed to beckon him - _mocking… taunting…_

And now it turned out he really had been doing it on purpose? This guy really _was_ a jerk! Krillin had been right about him!

"You haven't even bothered to show your face until _I_ came to you." Vegeta scoffed. "Too afraid of getting your ass beaten, I see."

 _That did it. "_ I can't forgive you for what you've said about my _Dad!"_ Gohan growled. The next thing he knew, before he could even register his actions, his closed fist was coming into contact with Vegeta's face. The saiyan prince didn't so much as lose his balance, having seen it coming. _He **did** instigate it, after all…_

Gohan's eyes widened. This wasn't the first time he'd lost physical control, and whenever that happened he was always immediately hit with an overwhelming sense of guilt. He dropped his face, backing away as if he couldn't trust himself to not do it again. "Mr. Vegeta… I'm… I'm sorr-"

"If _that's_ the best you're capable of, I'm better off sparring with my infant son!" Vegeta hissed, his voice breaking into a croaky laugh. He put a hand to his cheek, grinning as if it tickled. In reality the skin was stinging with the threat of a bruise, but he'd never reveal this to Kakarot's boy...

Gohan snapped his head back up. Now that Vegeta looked closer, he could see sweat at the his forehead. The more he examined the kid, though, he realized that the sweat was covering his _entire_ body. The boy was standing before him, grunting with hostile breaths, his eye nearly twitching in effect. Vegeta had taunted the boy, but he still seemed much too angry for the situation. He hadn't been _that_ harsh...

 _And, wait – that wasn't even sweat…_ it almost looked like _grease..._

"What's _with_ you?" Vegeta straightened his posture. This was getting weird…

"I… I don't know, I just… I feel…" Gohan glared. His ki was spasming, as if he was torn between anger and sadness. The kid backed away even more, looking at his own hands. "I can't… _control_ myself lately…" He growled. "My temper's gotten so bad. I hate fighting, but lately that's all I want to do… I… I have _urges…_ "

Vegeta's eyes widened. _Oh no…_

"I just… I feel like I _need_ to..." Gohan lifted his head, losing his ability to hold back. "I can't sleep at night, Mr. Vegeta! It's all I can think about. The other day I broke the stove! I... I accidentally burned myself while cooking for mother, and I picked it up and threw it. Just like that! I couldn't stop myself!" Gohan seemed to be growing more desperate as he spoke, as if he had never verbalized these thoughts before. As if, now that he'd started explaining, he couldn't turn off his tongue. As if he'd been holding his breath for years and had only just remembered how the breathe.

Vegeta crossed his arms, looking him up and down as he spoke. The way Gohan sounded as if he was going to burst into tears at any moment, and yet such _pleasure_ dripped from his tongue as he detailed destroying the kitchen appliance… The Saiyan Prince raised his eyebrows. _Oh, jeez..._ "How… _old_ are you, boy…?"

Gohan stiffened. He cleared his throat awkwardly, no longer about to make eye contact. "I'll be… thirteen in a couple months, sir…"

Thirteen? Now, that was an age Vegeta hadn't thought about in years. Suddenly images came flooding back to mind. Long forgotten sleepless nights in his pod, violent outbursts, the _hunger._ Vegeta twisted his expression as if he'd smelled something foul, slapping a hand to his face. "You're turning _thirteen?"_

"Y-Yes... why? Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, I don't know, boy. You tell me." Vegeta pulled the hand down, stepping away from Gohan as if he thought the kid was carrying some type of infectious disease. "I don't know if your anatomy will take more after your human or your saiyan DNA. But _thirteen years old?_ Either way, that's _disgusting._ "

" _Huh?"_ Gohan's face fell, his mouth dropping open. "What do you-"

"I don't care _what_ you do in your own time, but it'll benefit you to blow off steam somehow! You should be proud of your saiyan ancestors, boy. You hear the voices, don't you? The voices telling you to _fight?_ You're better off listening to them. They'll only grow louder if you ignore them." Vegeta was shaking his head now, still horrified as images from his own adolescence began to replay in his mind. _Thirteen_ was an age he had been so happy to forget…

"Mr. Vegeta, I-"

"Say no more, _boy."_ Vegeta was heading back for the house now. He had long forgotten about his plan on pestering Gohan into a sparring match. This night was just becoming too much for him to bear. "I don't need to hear anything else. Just remember what I said. And for the love of _hell_ , make sure you shower regularly… Oh jeez... _Thirteen…"_

And with that, as a bewildered Gohan registered what he had been told, the prince of all saiyans disappeared back into the hut.

Her silhouette stood near the bathroom door, brushing her teeth with avid determination. Vegeta lay on his bed, shirtless and exhausted, the image of an ailed Chi-Chi playing over in his astonished head. He watched Bulma's figure as she spit into the sink and placed her toothbrush back into its cup, wondering once again what it had been like for _her._ He had left _her_ for the majority of her pregnancy, and for the majority of the boy's first year.

He didn't remember Bulma ever being _that_ frail – but then again, she _did_ have a considerable amount of resources available. Her health obviously had been affected by the boy's gestation, though. There was proof of that in the way she'd passed out in Vegeta's bed one night. If he remembered correctly, she had developed some type of comorbidity from carrying child. In fact, it was due to her fainting spell that they had even been able to _diagnose_ her with the condition known on Earth as _pregnancy._

Clad in her thin night clothes, Bulma was now strolling back into the bedroom. She made eye contact with the saiyan, a smile forming at her lips. "I know I already said it, but I'm glad you came to see me tonight."

"Right." Vegeta sat up, having more on his mind than _that._ "Tell me, Woman… How do you think that family will hold up?"

"I don't know…" Bulma took a seat next to him, kicking her feet on the bed with a sigh. "They've been managing up until now, so I'm sure they'll make it through the night. But honestly, I'm thinking of going back tomorrow. I don't feel comfortable with Gohan being her only form of support."

_He didn't want to admit how much this statement pleased him to hear._

"I'm thinking of calling Dr. Plocks and seeing if he'll meet me all the way out there. If he says he can't then I'll offer to fly him, myself. My pregnancy with Trunks was hard, but I don't remember ever being _that_ messed up from it. I swear, she didn't even know who I was by the time we left!"

Once again, Bulma's words were so pleasing that Vegeta had to fight the grin from his face. It was quite a relief to know that she hadn't even gotten into a condition like Chi-Chi's during his absence, but still… He found that the nagging sensation within wasn't going to completely cease. He had abandoned her during a time that was evidently so hard on an Earth Woman. But at least Vegeta could claim ignorance for his decision. From what he could remember, saiyan women didn't have any adverse conditions that came with pregnancy. If anything, they only seemed to fight _better_ when carrying child. It was as if the surging hormones in their body only added to their strength! But this was Kakarot's second child - he had been fully aware of what was awaiting his wife when he decided he didn't want to return to life. Was he really _that_ much of an idiot?

Vegeta, overwhelmed with the burden of empathy, placed his hands behind his head to look up at the ceiling. "I think going back would be a right thing to do." He grunted. "Perhaps they need to live in less solitude."

He felt arms on his chest, and he knew that Bulma was cuddling up against him. Her hair nuzzled into his skin, and she indulged in a tight sigh. "Did you just suggest that they move closer to us?" She teased.

"Kakarot has chosen to desert them. If his wife is going to be in a condition like _that_ , it doesn't make sense for them to live somewhere that not even a physician can readily access."

"Wow, Vegeta…" Her cheek grinned against his pectoral muscle. "I always _knew_ you weren't as selfish as you try to let on!"

He felt his cheeks warming, and the saiyan turned in a futile effort to hide his face. "I _am_ selfish…" He grunted. "I already told you. I'm an _asshole._ "

"Is that a _bruise?"_ Bulma replied, putting a hand to Vegeta's cheek. "Where did that come from?"

An image of Kakarot's son punching him flashed through the saiyan's head. He closed his eyes, fighting back the grin. "Nowhere. Turn off the light, Woman. Let's get some rest."

" _Bulma."_ She corrected. "Remember? I told you that I like it when you call me _Bulma..."_

 _"Alright, **Bulma**." _ Vegeta turned to look back at her. She was gazing at him, her features exhausted. Her eyes wide with admiration. She _really_ was satisfying to look at. "Let's get some rest. You've got a long day of cleaning up after Kakarot's wife tomorrow..."

And, with that, she clicked off the light before snuggling back against him. He felt her head nuzzling back into his chest, her body seeming to sink into his own. Such a natural and _right_ action, it was one that Vegeta couldn't imagine being without. It was strange to think that this was their first night falling asleep together since he had acted like such a _fool._ And, as if this was also on her mind, Bulma seemed to sink even deeper into his flesh. "Vegeta?" She said softly, a yawn threatening her lips.

"Yes?"

"Goodnight... I _love you..._ "

All he could do was tighten his hold around her, feeling as his lips brushed against her forehead. The words sinking in, swirling in his ears, playing over in his mind. Even in the darkness his eyes were wide as he considered how to respond. He could feel her sinking even deeper into his hold, and he knew by her heavy breaths that she was quickly falling asleep.

_Love..._

She still... _loved him..._

_After everything._

Even after he had abandoned her, leaving her to struggle in health much like Kakarot had done to Chi-Chi.

He was still _loved..._

Vegeta knew she was now asleep, but he pressed his lips against her forehead for another kiss. She let out a soft moan in response, curling into his form and taking in a deep breath. He grinned, closing his eyes again. He wasn't so sure if he deserved it, but he was very much _loved._

 


	37. Gohan's Visit

"So, you've finally found the courage to show yourself." Vegeta was leaning against the doorframe, a smug grin widening his cheeks. This was the closest thing

 

Gohan thought he'd ever seen to a genuine _smile_ on the saiyan prince's face, and somehow it was disturbing. He had felt Vegeta's ki radiating all morning, and after their conversation the night before there was no denying that the pompous bastard was summoning him. And so, with Bulma safely taking care of his mother, the adolescent swallowed his ego and took off towards West City. Now that he was here, though, he was having second thoughts about his decision...

"Well? Hurry up and come inside. I'm sure you've noticed the bugs out there taking pictures of us!" Vegeta hissed, fighting the urge to yell something foul at the paparazzi looming in the distance. Gohan gulped, stepping into the house and letting Vegeta slam the door behind him. That look on his face was always _so arrogant!_ He hated to Vegeta's already overinflated ego… _Why_ had he decided to come?

"Hi!" Trunks threw both of his hands in the air with a whole-hearted wave, overjoyed to see that his friend had arrived for a visit.

With an awkward gulp, Gohan bent at the knees to try and get face-level with the child. Trunks, who had pushed himself through his father's legs, waved both of his arms enthusiastically to show delight in seeing his new friend.

"Step aside, son." Vegeta said, making his way across the foyer. "Gohan is here to speak with me."

Trunks looked up at his father when he said this, registering the words in his mind. Was his Dad _really_ telling him that his friend hadn't come by to see _him?_ Why else would Gohan be here? Trunks normally trusted whatever his father said, but this time he _knew_ the guy was wrong, and it was too much for him to idly take. "No!" He yelled, putting his chubby hands on his little baby hips.

"Boy, I said to stand back!" Vegeta cleared his throat.

"No!" Trunks repeated, glaring up at his father. He had a look on his face that reminded Vegeta very much of Bulma – that expression she made when she was determined to get her way. He wasn't used to Trunks talking back to him. In fact, he was pretty sure this was the _first_ time the kid was doing such a thing!

 _And in front of Kakarot's son, too_?

"I don't mind Trunks." Gohan cut in, trying to prevent the situation from escalating. "He's alright…" His voice had that same irritable undertone as the night before, which seemed to be wavering with the threat of losing his temper. Vegeta remembered the story Gohan had told of breaking his own oven because of a remotely small annoyance. Clearly the kid was _still_ feeling the effects of his age...

_What an awkward age..._

"Do as you wish." Vegeta finally grunted, turning towards the inside of the house. "I summoned you because I didn't want you in Bulma's way. Play with my son, if _that's_ what you really desire. I'll be training in my gravity room. You know where to find me if you want to make proper use of your time…"

And, with that, the saiyan prince took off into the house as Gohan watched. Perplexed, the adolescent could feel a tugging at his leg. He looked down to see Trunks nearly hanging off of him, beaming from ear to ear. "Hi!" The lavender-haired tot was calling again, excited to have been left alone with his friend.

Gohan found it interesting that the toddler was so obviously unperturbed by Vegeta's behavior – but, then again, he was probably _was_ used to it by now. The man _was_ his father, after all! He was around him all the time! "So…" He cleared his throat, feeling more than a bit awkward.

"Let's play!" Trunks replied, too young to understand the concept of social anxiety. He grabbed Gohan's wrist and gave him a firm tug, pulling him across the foyer. "Hey!" Gohan, caught off guard, nearly lost his balance at the force of the toddler's pull. "Jeez – Trunks! You're really strong!"

" _Daddy's_ strong!" Trunks responded, as if this explained everything. There was a lot he wanted to tell him, but he wasn't yet developed enough in his vocabulary to form detailed sentences. Trunks had a lot he wanted to show Gohan – a lot he wanted to do!

As Gohan allowed Trunks to lead him through the house, he couldn't help but examine the interior with awe. The building was so _big_ in comparison to his own home! Everything looked so new – so spotless and _clean_! The couches in the living room almost appeared as if they'd never even been used! And as Trunks continued pulling Gohan, now upstairs and towards his bedroom, the adolescent couldn't help but wonder if this home had been set up more to Bulma's taste. It was hard to believe that Vegeta would even care about a turning staircase, those _wine-red drapes_ that hung over each window, or such big and open rooms. Vegeta seemed like the kind of person that would rather spend his time locked in a bunker to brood over his fighting poses – and from what Gohan could tell, he pretty much _did_ that with the gravity room!

What kind of home would they be living with if Vegeta had made all the decisions? If Vegeta had been in charge of planning a home, would it have been anywhere _near_ this size?

"Look!" Trunks squealed, pulling bins out from the shelves in his room. They had been loaded to the top was various types of toys, and Trunks began to pour them all over his bedroom floor. A wide grin on his cheeks, the little boy made to retrieve another bin.

"Wow, Trunks…" Gohan said from the doorway, once again watching the room with awe. "You have a _lot_ of stuff…"

"Let's play with this!" Trunks replied, holding up one of his favorite figurines. Gohan took a seat beside the boy, who dropped the figure into his lap. "Hey," Gohan inspected the toy. "Is this my _dad?_ "

Sure enough, the action figure he was holding was almost an exact replica of Super Saiyan Goku – a frown plastered along his plastic face. Gohan couldn't help but feel a pang in his gut as he looked into this doll's eyes, memories of his father washing over his mind like an unforeseen storm. It had certainly been unexpected, and he suddenly felt that his emotions were pulling him in separate directions. A deep sadness at the idea of never getting to see his father again, an anger at the circumstance, guilt that he hadn't been able to prevent it... _Grief was such a strange thing…_

"Here!" Trunks said, mercifully breaking Gohan's concentration. He looked up to see that Trunks now had his arms full with even more figures. Still grinning from ear to ear, the lavender-haired tot poured all of them into Gohan's lap generously.

"Hey…" Gohan picked through the pile. "This is Krillian! And this! That's Mr. Piccolo!"

"And _Dad!_ " Trunks chimed, grabbing the figurine of Super Saiyan Vegeta from the pile and brandishing it triumphantly.

"Where'd you _get_ all these?" Gohan breathed. There was even a figure of Mr. Satan! It was starting to make sense. These toys had been modeled after all of them as they'd been during the Cell Games! Mr. Satan had gotten all the attention despite how the fight had gone down, and Gohan had nearly forgotten that any part of it had been televised at all! He had no idea that such toys had been manufactured! "Hey, Trunks! Look, you even have one of _me!"_

"It's _you!_ " Trunks squealed in agreement, clapping his hands together before grabbing Super Saiyan Gohan from the pile. He studied it happily, as if he were only just realizing that the toy _was_ the same person who was sitting beside him. Grinning, Trunks handed the toy back to him. "Fly!" He commanded.

"Fly?" Gohan's eyes widened, looking around the room. "I can't fly in _here?_ "

The Lavender boy held out the figure of Vegeta, as if to show what he meant. "Pfffft!" He cooed, waving the toy through the air. Gohan watched as Trunks played, spitting out sound effects as he did. "I will fly one day!" Trunks explained. "Just like Daddy!"

..

"He's such a _good_ boy."

"I know he is."

Chi-Chi and Bulma were sitting at the table, sipping on herbal tea after sharing lunch. The Bluehead had been disappointed to learn that Dr. Plocks wouldn't be able to meet them until the following week, but Chi-Chi seemed to be doing better regardless. She still seemed a bit emotional, but her energy had increased exponentially over night! Perhaps what she'd been needing all along was some deep rest and several large meals…

"He's _such_ a **_good_** boy!" Chi-Chi was repeating, her lip quivering as she spoke. She took a swig of her tea, fighting back the tears. "He works _so hard_ for us…"

"Gohan has two good parents to take after." Bulma replied firmly, trying to give Chi-Chi the opportunity to change the subject.

"He feels so guilty, you know? I tried steering him away from martial arts from the moment he was born, and now he feels guilty every time he swings a fist. It's my fault, you know?"

"He's been through a lot." Bulma replied. She could hear the tears in her friend's voice, and she wasn't sure if she should encourage the conversation or end it. Was this genuine venting, or was it hormonal confessions? Would Chi-Chi regret telling her all of this once the mood passed?

"I'm not going to put so much academic pressure on this next one. Boy or girl, it'll learn to fight just like Goku did!" Chi-Chi slammed her fist down at the table at this, not having any more tea left to sip. "This next one will be just as great as Gohan was! My boy saved this _world!_ Can you believe it? He saved us _all_ and he still feels so _ashamed -_ because of how I raised him!"

She was taken by such surprise that Bulma accidentally inhaled her drink. "Raugh!" She choked, doubling over the table. Coughing profusely as her eyes watered, the Bluehead fought to breathe as her airways cleared.

"Oh!" Chi-Chi gasped, jumping up.

"I'm…" Bulma wiped away the tears that were streaming down her face. " _I'm fine!_ Oh, I'm fine… _"_ Her face was swollen and red, and she felt slightly light-headed, but the Bluehead placed the cup back to her lips and was careful to make sure the liquid went down the right pipe this time. "I could have sworn I heard you say that you want this baby to fight?"

Chi-Chi nodded. "Yes! Gohan is so torn about martial arts. He's told me that it's his responsibility to get a good job and support me someday. And I know that's because of how I brought him up. But Bulma, he saved the _world!_ My son! _He_ defeated that monster! Don't you see?"

"Yeah, I see…"

"I was _wrong!_ I gave Goku such a hard time about Gohan's training, but he was right this whole time! _He knew_ , Bulma… he _knew…_ and I can't do that to this next one! I can't make them feel so ashamed! Even when he did _so_ good, Gohan still feels so guilty for using his own hands…"

.

" _What_ do you have in your hands!?" Vegeta voice burst through the bedroom so suddenly that it made the two boys jump.

Gohan dropped the figure of Yamcha he'd been holding, rising to his feet with a startled yell. Trunks, who had been initially been surprised, seemed otherwise undisturbed by his father's outburst. He picked up the figure of Vegeta again and resumed flying it through the air with his sound effects. There hardly seemed to be a care at all!

"I summoned you here thinking you would want to punch me, and you chose _this_?" Vegeta continued, stepping into the room. "You'd rather sit with my son and play with _dolls_ than challenge me to a match?"

Still recovering from having the wind scared out of him, the adrenaline that was coursing through Gohan's veins was becoming irritating. He wasn't sure _why_ , but it seemed that every time he interacted with Vegeta it did nothing less than drive him red with anger. Such a thing was so unlike his gentle spirit! He knew this – and somehow, recognizing that it was unusual for someone to fill her with such rage only added to his fury even more. "They aren't _dolls!_ " Gohan growled, stepping away from the pile of toys. "And _you_ left me alone! I don't even know where your gravity room is!"

Vegeta crossed his arms. "You should know enough by now to know that's no excuse. You could easily track me down with my ki."

Gohan turned, gesturing to the lavender-haired tot. Trunks was now making explosive sounds with his mouth, breathing heavily as he replicated two of the figures jumping on a toy truck. "And what about _him?_ You want me to just leave _him_ alone while we fight?"

" _That's_ more like it." The saiyan prince nodded. "It's a better excuse than the last, I'll give you that. But it still isn't enough. You do realize that Bulma's parents live next door, don't you? My son's grandmother could be here in an instant to care for the child while we're occupied."

Gohan was grinding his teeth now, narrowing his eyes. " _How_ was I supposed to know that?!" He hissed. " _Mr. Vegeta!_ I told you before that I've had trouble controlling my anger lately! And I'm not doing so well right now!"

"Oh? Is that so?" Vegeta threw back his head and let out a smug laugh, his hands on his hips. "I'll call for the blonde woman, then. I told you last night that you're better off releasing all of that than keeping it in. At your age you'll find a lot more sustenance in my gravity room than you'll get playing make-believe with my infant son."

" _Mr. Vegeta!"_ Gohan snapped. "Stop talking to me like that! You're making me really mad!"

"I know, _boy. That's the point!_ Now step away from the toys and meet me in my gravity room."

Gohan, who was still grinding his teeth, watched as the saiyan disappeared down the hall from whence he came. "I'm serious!" He called. "You're making me _really mad!_ I'm warning you!" But there was no response. The adolescent let out a deep breath of air, his biceps trembling. If Vegeta was _that_ insistent on having a fight, then he was going to get one.

But still…

He didn't like fighting…

He didn't _want_ to fight, and yet Vegeta was pushing him to do it. That in of itself only served to make him more angry – which confused him! Because he didn't like being so hostile, and he _didn't_ want to use his fists!

…Did he?

Gohan felt a tug at his leg, and he looked down to see Trunks pulling at his pants. "Have fun!" The toddler called, giving an affectionate wave. "Bye-Bye Gohan! _Have fun!"_

 

 


	38. The Talk

* * *

 

"You're sloppy!" Vegeta had been successfully dodging each one of Gohan's punches, noting how rigid the boy had become in the few months that had passed since their last fight. "Focus!"

"I _am_!" Gohan growled, swinging another failed punch. His eyes, which were already a deep shade of brown, had turned completely black with rage. His face glistening with sweat as he fumed. He was _so_ pissed off, and the fact that he hadn't landed a single blow on Vegeta despite his efforts only added to his temper.

"You aren't concentrating!" Vegeta hissed, delivering an open-palmed slap to the boy's shoulder. It was hard enough to blow him back, Gohan flying into the tile below. "You're thinking too much!"

Gohan, who had landed sprawled across the tile meters away, pulled himself to his feet and let out a frustrated gasp. "I _told_ you that already - I know!" He looked down at his hands now. "It's all I ever do, Mr. Vegeta!" His tone less fierce with each word that came out, the boy let out a tired groan. "It's all I _can_ do! _All_ I _do_ is _think_!"

Vegeta had been putting in such little effort that he hadn't even broken a sweat, but he reached for a towel to drape around his shoulders regardless. "The only thing on your mind during a fight should be your strategic plan." He rolled his eyes, sensing very well where this conversation would quickly go. "Didn't you say you couldn't stop thinking about _wanting_ to fight? Enjoy it!"

"That's just it! I want this so bad, and I just can't! I can't do it!"

"What do you mean by that?" Vegeta snapped.

"I _can't!_ " Gohan repeated. "I don't want to feel this way! I don't _want_ to hurt people!"

Vegeta was making his way to Gohan now, studying the boy's posture as he went. The kid was sitting on the floor, slumped over as he continued staring into his open hands. He seemed as if he were warding off tears, which Vegeta would have found repulsive if it hadn't been so uncomfortably concerning. This concept of guilty fighting was a recurring theme that he had seen nonstop since first meeting Kakarot's son. And, while it offended the pride Vegeta took in his culture, it was obvious now that it was much more than simply a weak cowardice. This boy appeared to be in _pain._ As much as he hated this type of conversation, there was an underlying duty that had been engraved into Vegeta's core from birth. While his planet was no more, he _had_ been a prince once. Despite the standards he set for his race and the expectations he had, he still _cared_ about his people. Apparently, this also went for the half-breed children of lower-class soldiers…

"Look." Vegeta sighed, running a hand through his spiky locks as he tried to think of the words to use. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to seek relief through physical means…" As he said it, the saiyan couldn't help but think that this sentence could have a very _different_ meaning depending on context, and he had to concentrate to prevent the image of Bulma's inviting hips from soiling his mind.

"But, I _can't…_ " Gohan repeated. "I… I don't like not being in control! I don't _like_ that it's all I want, no matter how much I try!"

Vegeta groaned.

"I don't know what's wrong with me…" Gohan continued. "It didn't used to be this bad… but now it's getting worse every day!"

Was he really _that_ naïve to not understand what was happening to him? Vegeta's jaw clenched. For the millionth time he couldn't help but feel his gut well up with resentment for Kakarot. _Not only_ had the man impregnated his wife and then left her despite knowing what type of turmoil awaited her body, but he'd also shown the same neglect to his living son! The boy had already been showing signs of his age during the Cell Games. Kakarot had plenty of opportunity to give him a head's up! And he hadn't even done _that!_

"I just feel so…" Gohan started again, seeming to be unable to stop now that the words had begun flowing.

"You feel the saiyan DNA in your veins." Vegeta interrupted, dropping the towel he had been holding. "How old did you say you were, again?"

"Almost thirteen." Gohan replied, not understanding what age had to do with anything.

" _Thirteen._ And this doesn't register with you?" Vegeta was hinting, biting his lip. _Fucking Kakarot!_ Why was _he_ getting handed the unpleasant aspects of parenting, while Kakarot got to blissfully train away in the afterworld, without any worries at all?!

"I…" The adolescent started, his eyes wide. He was beginning to feel foolish, but none of this was lining up with him. What did nearly being thirteen have to do with his violent impulses?

"Okay. Listen to what I have to say, because I'm **not** going to repeat it." Vegeta announced, confirming just how little the boy truly knew. He took a deep breath, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. "All saiyan infants are born with the survival instincts required to do well in battle, and these reflexes are trained and utilized at birth."

Gohan blinked forgetting his own turmoil momentarily. Getting a lesson on saiyan upbringing had been the least of his expectations, and he was suddenly quite intrigued.

"It's not until the age of thirteen that the true metamorphosis begins. This is when the saiyan transforms from being one who essentially acts on mere instinct, to a _true_ warrior. Understand? It's our anatomy, _boy."_

" _Oh."_ Gohan blinked his wide eyes again. So thirteen really _did_ have significance…

"Our muscles expand. Our bones grow. We reach full height, and our absolute potential is awakened." Vegeta, who was obviously uncomfortable, was talking at such a quick pace now that Gohan had to listen carefully to make out everything being said. The boy raised his hand, as if he were sitting in class and wanted to ask the teacher a question. Vegeta, who was summoning enough mental energy as it was to _only_ give this talk, grit his teeth at the interruption. " _What?"_

"Um.." Gohan cleared his throat. "You said _full_ height?" His eyes running up and down the prince's frame.

"Right." Vegeta crossed his arms and took a step back, a scowl crossing his already irritable face. "I'll have _you_ know that I was starved half to death throughout the duration of my own transition, so it goes without saying that my growth was inhibited!" It was just another item to add on the list of reasons to hate Frieza so much. Being short did run in his family, but he could have easily grown a few more centimeters if Frieza hadn't prevented him from it! His mood had grown even more sour to be reminded of such a time. He had been receiving the majority of his beatings at thirteen... "You'll tower over me, just as your father did. But have no doubts, _boy._ I will _always_ be superior to _you_ – in class, in strategy, and in wit."

 _Jeez!_ Gohan sucked his tongue to hold back from reacting. He supposed that this insult was relatively called for, considering he had been the one to point out Vegeta's height. But still – how was _he_ supposed to have known that it was such a sensitive subject to the narcissistic man in front of him? Vegeta acted as if he were incapable of any type of flaw! Gohan never would have said anything at all if he'd known…

" **Anyway!** " Vegeta barked, turning his back to the adolescent now. "Your hormones are surging with _the change_. You've got saiyan genes coursing through your blood, and it's impairing your senses. It's only natural that your instincts are flaring up! It's what you were _built_ to do! As you age and your transition completes, your body chemistry will equalize once more. The impulses you complain of will subside, but the skills and experience you gain during this period of fight will linger for the _rest of your life._ " It was then that he turned back around, pointing an accusatory finger at Gohan. "But that is _only_ _ **if**_ you stop fighting it, and let yourself give in! So cease now with your resisting and let your body drive its course!" And, with that last sentence, he begrudgingly felt that quoting Bulma was most appropriate at this time. "If not, _you're going to drive yourself crazy._ "

Gohan's mouth had dropped open, but he was unable to form words. It was _so_ odd – in that moment Vegeta was less insulting or irritating than he'd been during any of their recent encounters. "So… I'm _not_ a bad person for wanting to destroy you?" He asked dumbly. Conveying it in a sentence didn't do much to sooth his concerns, but understanding that there really was physiological reasoning behind everything was such a relief that the boy was suddenly fighting back tears.

" _Jeez…_ Stand up, boy! Don't start getting so poignant!"

Gohan stood then, wiping his hands off on his knees as he did so. Vegeta turned away from him once more, heading for the door. "I'm hungry. _You_ stay in here and work on focusing your energy. You're clearly still too worked up to be of any use to me in a match! And remember what I said – **stop resisting!** "

The boy didn't argue or hesitate in raising his ki. If Vegeta knew one thing well, then it was the saiyan race. If he said this feeling would pass with time, then Gohan was obliged to trust him. He'd do anything to relieve himself of his symptoms! If that meant he needed to allow himself to fight, then so be it. And, as his energy began to rise, Gohan had to admit that it was starting to actually feel _good!_

Vegeta shook his head as he stepped out of the Gravity Room and into the house. What he had chosen not to mention were all of the other aspects that transitioning had on the body, and he hoped the boy understood enough now to figure the rest out himself. "Kami," The saiyan grunted, shaking his head. "I really _hate_ the number thirteen…"

.

The sun had already fallen in the sky when the house's intercom system began to chime with that annoying ringing sound. Vegeta, who had been in the living room when the call came in, walked to the closest monitor to accept the call.

Bulma's face came up on the screen, looking worn out and concerned. "Vegeta?" She said, he voice sounding just as exhausted as she looked. "Is Gohan _still_ there?"

"He's been training all day." Vegeta nodded his head in the direction of the gravity room. "He hasn't come out since I left him alone."

"Oh, okay. I was starting to get a bit worried!" The Bluehead put a hand up to her cheek, her brows softening with relief.

"He's fine. Clearly he is understanding what it means to exert his energy, so I'm letting him."

Bulma's eyes suddenly flared, her blue orbs piercing through the screen. "So you haven't even _checked_ on him?"

Vegeta scowled back, noting the irritation in her voice. "Of course _not!_ His father is a saiyan! You _don't_ interrupt a saiyan during training unless they ask for it!"

Bulma twisted her nose at this, glaring into the monitor. "That's fine and well, as long as he doesn't turn into _you_ and stay in there for a week! Now, I'm exhausted and I've been waiting for Gohan to get here for _hours_ so I can go home without leaving Chi-Chi alone! You get in there and tell him to come back _right now!_ "

With that, her face disappeared as the call suddenly ended. Cursing under his breath, Vegeta turned away. Clearly _someone_ appeared to be in a nasty mood… It was amazing how easily she could get him to do her bidding, for he suddenly found himself heading to the Gravity Room despite his opinions. He was readying himself for the potential reaction Gohan might have upon his entering the room, but Vegeta didn't bother to knock before walking in. "Alright, listen up." He began. "Your mother wants you-"

But he wasn't able to finish. A moment later, and Gohan was at his face, a fist coming into direct contact with Vegeta's jaw. He had expected Gohan's fury, but that was still pretty good! It had caught him off guard! Vegeta couldn't help but to let out a husky laugh as he caught another punch with his hand, his eyes brightening with stimulation.

It was obvious that Gohan was feeling better – his coordination had tremendously improved from how it had been earlier that day. The boy whipped around Vegeta, attempting to blow a kick to his rib. Letting out another laugh, adrenaline settling in, Vegeta slapped the leg away before it could collide with his body. "Is that _all?_ " He taunted, stepping deeper into the room as he continued dodging the kid's attacks. This time around it was actually taking concentration to avoid the boy's blows! He was actually starting to feel a bit _winded!_

" _ **I still haven't forgotten what you said about my father!**_ " Gohan growled. The black in his eyes carried a faraway tone, and it was clear that he was lost in concentration. His voice shook as he spoke, this time quivering with confidence rather than lack of control.

"Your _dad_ was an idiot!" Vegeta teased, flying up into the air to avoid a beam of ki that Gohan had sent his way.

" _Take that_ _ **back**_ _!_ " Gohan barked. In a flash of gold he became a super saiyan, his dark eyes now bright with fury. He began his charge at the saiyan prince, letting out a primal yell of rage as he flew. "It's _not_ funny! I can't forgive you!"

"I didn't _ask_ for your forgiveness, boy." Vegeta replied, a grin still plastered on his face. This was exactly what he had been waiting for – a _real_ sparring match with someone of capable power! It was starting to feel good! He was about to transition to a super saiyan himself, but Bulma's tired face suddenly flashed across his mind. She was _waiting_ for them, and he couldn't allow himself to keep going. With a sudden change in demeanor, the saiyan quickly dropped his smile. He had initially been encouraging this to escalate, but he needed to end it before it continued any farther.

Gohan was yelling again, flying straight at him with pure resentment in his eyes. Vegeta glared back, readying himself. The boy had pent his energy up for much too long, and he was really enjoying this! Vegeta needed to put a stop to it before the kid lost _complete_ control.

Suddenly Gohan disappeared from sight, and Vegeta whirled around just in time to block a kick aimed at the back of his head. Vegeta grabbed the boy's leg, yanking him around like an angry rag doll. He landed a firm blow in the kid's stomach before tossing him to the floor with a curse. That had been close – the boy was _fast._ He was panting now, trying to catch his breath, lowering himself to the ground beside the boy.

Gohan seemed stunned, laying in place with wide eyes. Disbelief that Vegeta had managed such a thing.

"When you get overly cocky, you set yourself up for surprise." Vegeta spat, still catching his breath. "That's enough for today! Your mother needs you home."

Sobered and blinking, Gohan's hair began to darken back to its naturally black hue. His eyes brown once again, processing what had just occurred.

"Come back tomorrow for another round." Vegeta panted. The endorphins swirling in his core made him want to laugh once again at how fulfilling it was to have a good spar, but he was fighting back the urge. Bulma was waiting for them.

Still looking bewildered, the adolescent pulled himself to his feet. Without speaking a word, he began to make his way for the door. A lot had happened that day, and he didn't like admitting how much better he really did feel to have let the tension out. He was feeling good…

_Really good…_

Vegeta watched the boy leave, and he returned to the living room so he could take a seat on the couch. Upstairs Trunks was asleep, having been soothed to bed by Mrs. Briefs. He was completely alone in a silent house, with nothing but the thoughts of what had just happened in the Gravity Room. His muscles were trembling with the craving for more, and he smirked as he attempted to clear it all from his mind. He'd get his match soon enough. For now he needed to calm down…

It had been a long day without her, and he was eager for Bulma to return home. He wouldn't want to go out and say it, but he was curious for the update on what had occurred with Chi-Chi while she'd been gone. And in return he had quite the story for her!

* * *


	39. We're Going Out

* * *

 

"I just can't get her to agree with anything I offer! I don't know what to do!"

"So why not use force?"

Vegeta and Bulma were downstairs in the basement, trying to put together lab equipment. Because the house had been designed with a floorplan nearly identical to the Briefs residence, a basement had been included during the construction. However Vegeta, not having much use for it, hadn't done much with the space. Perhaps he could have used the basement for his Gravity Room, but the saiyan much preferred to have his home built around his training quarters as its center. Bulma had decided that she wanted to use her spare time to start converting the basement to a lab so she could work from home, and the two were now working together as she spoke.

"I need these two pieces welded." The Bluehead said after clasping two cuts of metal together in form of some type of tube. Vegeta obliged, pointing a finger and eliciting a steady beam of heat from its tip. "Well?" He grunted, glaring at the metal as he impatiently waited for it to mold together. If he focused his power _too_ hard then there was risk he'd end up melting the entire thing, and that was a lesson he'd had to learn the hard way. "If she's that delusional then just force her!"

"You know I can't do that!" Bulma hissed, taking in a deep breath as she lifted the next piece from the rubble that had been scattered about the floor.

"But living in such a remote location with her condition is _mad_!" The beam had faded into a soft wisp of steam that was simmering from his fingertip, and Vegeta blew it out with a smirk.

_Show off…_

"I know that, but there's nothing I can do! I can't _force_ her!" A loud pop was heard as Bulma put two two rounded shapes of glass together, forming what appeared to be a large orb. "This needs to be mounted over here."

Vegeta made to help, but stopped in his tracks. "What _is_ that?" He asked, eyes widening.

"It doesn't matter what it is, I'm about to drop it!" Bulma replied hastily. Her arms were starting to wobble as she waited for him to take it from her. "Do you think this is easy to hold?"

Cursing under his breath, Vegeta jumped to assist. He took the glass ball from the Bluehead, returning it to where she had been holding it. "This isn't even heavy. I forget how weak you Earth creatures are!" He replied, pointing a finger to weld it to the opening of the metal tube it sat on.

"That weighs over twenty kilos, I'll have you know!" Bulma retorted, crossing her arms to keep from rubbing her aching biceps.

"Twenty _what?_ What the – Oh, a Kilo must be Earth's unit of measuring weight." Vegeta muttered, glaring at the object in front of him..

"It's _one_ of them…"

The saiyan stepped back, shooting the Bluehead one his arrogant smirks. "Well, if _that's_ what's considered heavy on this planet, then Earth is more of a joke than I thought!"

"Vegeta, could you just stop talking and _help_ me?" It was hard enough putting all of this together – she was too much of a perfectionist to allow her father's helpers to do it, and she became far too anal when she did it herself. She didn't need his comments. She just needed him to work!

"I _am…_ " Grunted the saiyan, waving an irate hand at the pile of tube and glass they had prepared so far. It looked like nothing more than a pile of junk to him, but evidently it was something much more than that. "See? I did what you asked."

"Well, I could use your help without the remarks, okay?" Bulma replied, turning back to the pile of parts scattered about the floor and trying to decide which one she needed next.

Now visually scorned and muttering even more curses under his breath, Vegeta began to make his way across the lab-in-progress, and stopped at the foot of the stairs. "So if Kakarot's woman doesn't move closer, what does that mean for you? You're just going to keep spending all of your days with her until the child comes out?"

"I might have to! In the mean time I'll keep trying to convince her to relocate, but I don't see that being of any use."

This obviously wasn't what the saiyan wanted to hear. Shooting her a scowl that would be clear even from kilometers away, Vegeta took a step back onto the first stair. "I don't like that."

"Well, there's really nothing else I can do, is there?" It was clear that they were done working on the lab for now. Pulling her work gloves off, she gave their project a glance. At this rate the lab wouldn't be complete until Trunks' next birthday! As she turned back around to look at Vegeta she saw that he was already halfway up the stairs. "I don't like it!" He was repeating, his feet growing louder with every step he took.

He'd been like this ever since her routine had begun. It seemed that every time they discussed Chi-Chi's physical status he would grow moody and sardonic, his snide remarks dripping off him like sweat. Bulma had known better than to tell him about Chi-Chi's refusal to move off of Mount Pazou, but he _had_ asked… ' _Oh well_ ', She thought, following his lead. They had been nearing a stopping point anyway. And she _did_ need to get ready to go see Chi-Chi, speaking of. It had been over a week, and today Dr. Plocks was finally going to make it out there with his medical team in order to examine the mother to be!

"I hope the kid puts up a good fight today." Vegeta grumped when Bulma made it into the living room. Since his first visit, Gohan had been going by the house every day. Though it seemed that he cared more about interacting with Trunks than he did sparring. In fact, on his second day of visiting, the adolescent had even announced a rule he had thought of over night. " _Okay,_ Mr. Vegeta." He had said. "I'll spar with you. But _only_ for an hour."

It was an odd request to be certain, but the boy had maintained this boundary that he'd set. It seemed he had an internal clock, for as soon as an hour passed in the Gravity Room Gohan would power down, refuse to throw any more punches, and excuse himself from the chambers in order to find Trunks and see what he was up to.

"I don't know what's with that boy! How can he expect to make much progress with only _an hour_ each day?" Vegeta was griping now, as Bulma walked past him to make her way for the bedroom.

"Come on, Vegeta…" The Bluehead teased, running a hand across his chest as she passed. "Why don't you just admit that you miss me when I leave, and you worry about Chi-Chi. I bet you'll be able to stop being so cranky if you do."

"I hate that word!" Vegeta snapped. "I am _not_ cranky!"

"Suit yourself. I need to get dressed so I can go."

.

"Good, you're here. We're going out."

It was an hour after Bulma had left, and Gohan had just arrived at Bulma and Vegeta's home. This had been the last thing he expected to hear when Vegeta had answered the door. "We're going out?" Gohan echoed, raising his young brows.

"Yes." Vegeta stepped back to fetch Trunks, but the tot had already found his way into the foyer after hearing Gohan's voice.

"Hi!" Trunks squealed, throwing his hands up with a wave.

"Hello." Gohan said, smiling down at the boy despite his confusion.

"Oh, _come on!_ " Vegeta groaned. "Let's go!"

As the unlikely group strolled down the sidewalk together, Trunks separated the older saiyan from the half-breed. Gohan was on edge, having been taken by complete surprise at this morning's endeavors. In the week that he had spent visiting each day, Vegeta hadn't taken a single step outside. When the subject of the outdoors even came up, the saiyan's already hostile mood would sour even more, which would usually result in him storming out of the room while muttering about " _beta pigs_ " and " _savage vultures_ ".

They were stepping further away from the house with each passing moment now. Other than Trunks, who was gleefully squealing with his strides, a single word hadn't been said. Gohan decided to break the silence, clearing his awkward throat. "Um… Where are we going, Mr. Vegeta?"

"Hm." The saiyan grunted, looking over his shoulder as he examined his surroundings. The truth was that Vegeta really _had_ been on edge ever since Bulma had begun her routine of spending her days out of the house in Chi-Chi's company.

It wasn't _completely_ because of Bulma being gone, though the off-chance of her being attacked again while she was away put him on edge. Aside from that, he found that he much preferred to hear her voice blaring down the hallways to the silence that fell without it. And he really _did_ enjoy the feeling he got when he saw her walk into the house at night... Sharing stories from their days each night was something he had started to look forward to, though he never would say this out loud.

Vegeta being on edge also wasn't _completely_ due to the fact that Kakarot's Woman was so pitiful in her state, although it made his stomach twist to hear stories of her upon Bulma's return. The images of her sunken eyes was one that the saiyan prince didn't like to remember, and it made his mouth far too dry when he faced the idea of having left his own Bluehead in such an excruciating state.

It wasn't even Kakarot's kid that bothered him! Though Vegeta had to admit it made him a little _too_ irritable to see the kid eagerly running upstairs to see Trunks rather than train in the Gravity Room. How could the boy prefer playing with _dolls_ over the sheer endorphins that came from a good sparring session? Gohan was the only person on this planet that seemed capable of offering a challenge to Vegeta, and he wasn't even giving him that because he wanted to play with _dolls! What more_ , the kid seemed much less high-strung than he had been a week earlier. How was it that he was finding proper sustenance without training?!

All of these things did bother Vegeta enough as it was, but they weren't the entire cause of his foul mood. What really sent him over the edge was the stark contrast of his and Bulma's days. The Bluehead was out of the house on a remote mountain, surrounded by wilderness and nature as she helped Chi-Chi to cook and clean. And what had Vegeta been doing? He hadn't been training in the Earth's soil, ripping trees from the ground to swing for a challenge, or meditating near a waterfall! Instead, the ever-private saiyan had taken to shutting himself away in his gravity room, not caring to have a fabricated story about himself published in the tabloids alongside his picture. Those vile creatures had gotten enough when he'd drunkenly kissed Bulma for them all to see, and what good had it done? If anything, it only seemed to make them want _more!_ Vegeta was perfectly capable of leaving the house as any time, but the fact was that he didn't _want_ to deal with any of the repercussions.

He hated the customs on Earth. On any other planet he would incinerate every one of those creatures that pointed a camera at him, but he wasn't at liberty of doing that here. Not without igniting Bulma's wrath...

...This morning, however, things had been different. Despite how moody he had been with Bulma and his irritation at the idea of not getting to have a good spar with Kakarot's boy, he'd noticed something as soon as he'd gotten out of bed. A complete lack of ki outside, which indicated that there was no waiting paparazzi. It was enough to intrigue him, though he'd been hesitant to get too excited until he was sure of it. But now, as the saiyan examined his surroundings and confirmed his suspicions, Vegeta couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling inside that he hadn't even known he'd been capable of. There wasn't a single twiggy man hiding behind a tree to violate his privacy with an unsolicited picture!

Not a single one!

He turned to look over his other shoulder, the emotion inside growing as he assured he wasn't being watched. He was fighting back a smile, eyes flashing as he noted how empty the street was.

' _Giddy'_ was probably the most fitting Earth term that could be used to describe this feeling, though Vegeta would never stoop low enough to describe himself with such a frilly word. Was this what Bulma meant when she would express herself as being _giddy_?

"Mr. Vegeta?"

The saiyan whipped around to face the boy, having been so distracted by his own thoughts that he'd nearly forgotten the kid was there. "What?" He grunted, tightening down to his typical gruff demeanor.

Gohan was looking at him from the corner of his eye as they continued their walk, looking somewhat paranoid as they went. "Where are we going?" He asked again, which came out sounding much too unconfident for Vegeta's taste.

"Hm…" Vegeta replied. This was the first time in weeks that he stepped foot outside without feeling as if he'd lose control and tear apart some camera man! Perhaps his drunken slip of judgement with Bulma hadn't been in vain, after all! She'd been right – it certainly had taken longer than she'd anticipated, but those bags of filth _had_ left them alone! He could do whatever he wanted in peace! Vegeta was feeling so beside himself with the possibilities, and he turned to the boys beside him with a stifled grin. "Where do _you_ want to go?" He replied with a tone that Gohan had only heard him use when he was laughing during a sparring match.

"Me?" Gohan asked.

" _Me?_ " Trunks cooed.

"Yes, _you_." Vegeta said impatiently. "Where do _you_ want to go?"

Was this some type of test? Gohan couldn't help but to feel his defenses coming up as Vegeta waited for an answer. This was so _unlike_ him, and seemingly out of nowhere!

"Park!" Trunks squealed, cutting off the adolescent from having to think too much harder. Vegeta seemed to accept this without any type of reprimand or sarcastic remark, because he simply nodded and continued to walk in silence, only speaking out to tell them when they needed to turn onto another street. It wasn't until they arrived to the park, a sea of swingsets and slides that were safely packed between four stone walls, that the saiyan spoke. Gohan couldn't say he'd ever been to one of these! He was about to run off behind Trunks to explore, his mouth dropped open as he looked around, but as he made to do so Vegeta cut him off.

"Wait a minute. I have a question for you."

Gohan bit his tongue, looking up into the saiyan's eyes. Here is was. This _had_ been some type of test, all along!

It seemed that a response wasn't necessary, because Vegeta continued without waiting for one. "My son is not even two years old, and you're nearly thirteen. Do you not think all these activities are far too childish for you?" His eyes were locked on the boys, staring him down to make it clear that he was being serious. "Do you _really_ prefer playing with my son's toys to training?"

Gohan blinked at the saiyan, his shoulders relaxing. This didn't sound like a trick question at all, for the man seemed to be genuinely perplexed! "You're right, Mr. Vegeta. All this stuff _is_ for babies. I don't really care about any of this. I just like spending time with Trunks, and this is what _he_ likes."

Vegeta continued staring into the boy's eyes, as if he were trying to detect any sign of a lie. "You enjoy my son's company that much." It was a question, but it came out as a command.

"Trunks is a cool kid, Mr. Vegeta!" Gohan gestured to the tot, who had somehow managed to gain reach of the monkey bars, and was now doing baby chin-ups as a group of schoolchildren watched in horror. Vegeta's own eyes widened as he watched – his son was still perfecting his ability to walk and speak! _Where had the boy learned to do_ _ **that**_ _?_

Gohan let out a laugh to see Trunks' exercise, which Vegeta couldn't help but to grin at the sound of. It seemed that Kakarot's Son could appreciate physicality more than he'd let on…

As the Saiyan watched Gohan run off to join Trunks at the monkey bars, he couldn't deny the odd feeling that came over him. Kakarot's Boy was now doing chin-ups alongside Trunks, and the tot let out a competitive growl as his chubby biceps struggled to keep up.

…Gohan hadn't been blowing off training with Vegeta in favor of playing with dolls in Trunks' room, after all! That little twerp – it seemed he'd been using his time to give the lavender child training of his own! It was an odd sensation, to see what capabilities his own son had gained by lesson of another individual, and yet Vegeta found he approved of it. The boy was sloppy, but Gohan had managed to teach him a lot in only a week! The saiyan prince couldn't help but admit he was impressed!

"This place has all kinds of stuff we can use, doesn't it?" Gohan was chiming to the toddler.

"Yay!" Trunks squealed, letting go of the Monkey Bars and falling to his feet without even a flinch.

The Saiyan Prince made his way to a large tree that was sitting in the back of the park. Finding his place in the shade, Vegeta continued to watch the two boys from afar. He wasn't so sure if he wanted Trunks to learn too much more from Gohan – the kid had many flaws in his own techniques that he didn't want rubbing off on his son. But he'd done a good job in showing Trunks the basics, which Vegeta noted as the Lavender-Haired Tot landed his small fist into a tetherball. Trunks had punched it so hard that the tether snapped, Gohan shooting into the air to catch the ball before it had a chance to fly all the way into West City.

His arms crossed as he leaned against the tree, Vegeta dropped his face to hide his laugh.

"So," He grunted, wishing for the millionth time in a week that Bulma was with him. He would have loved to hear the commentary she'd have to offer if she was witnessing this. "This is what they've been up to."

 _This_ was how Gohan had become less high-strung! It wasn't from the dolls at all!

Suddenly Vegeta didn't feel so soured by the idea of Gohan's disinterest in training in the Gravity Room. He hadn't been training with Vegeta - but he _had_ been doing it with his own son!

* * *


	40. Homecoming

****

* * *

 

It had become routine for Bulma to arrive at around 9 P.M. each night after spending the day on Mt. Pazou, so Vegeta was taken by surprise when she came home at 2 P.M. instead. He was glad to see her, especially after his rather unusually pleasant morning with Gohan and Trunks, but what he hadn't been expecting at all was the disorder that came along with her. "What's going on?" He asked, eyes wide, as a swarm of medical personnel flooded throughout their living room.

"She can go in this bedroom, right down this hall!" Bulma called, pointing a few workers in the way of the only room downstairs that would be suitable for a guest to stay in. Her cheeks were flushed with visible stress, and she turned to the saiyan to give him a desperate look. "The doctor ordered it – Chi Chi can't stay alone."

Stepping into a corner to keep from being caught in the stampede, Vegeta watched as nurses came running in from outside. One was pushing a bed on wheels as she went, the others following quickly behind with an assortment of equipment that the saiyan hadn't seen before. Simply pointing her finger, the Bluehead directed them to the room she had already mentioned to the others, and they disappeared without a word to set everything up. A moment later, and they were running back through the house in order to fetch something else.

Vegeta had thought it would be better for Kakarot's wife to move closer to the city, but he hadn't been expecting it to be in his own _house!_ Speechless, the saiyan turned back to his Woman. She was now sporting a rather pale expression, appearing to be just as in shock as he was. She caught notice that he was looking at her, and quickly she scurried across the room to take a spot beside him and whisper into his ear. "She's being considered _high-risk_. The doctor didn't like her condition. It was either this or admission into a hospital."

" _These_ were the only two options?" Vegeta hissed back, raising an eyebrow. "She can't find her own place in the city?"

"The doctors want her to be under watch at all times. That means she can't be left alone - not even overnight."

"She's doing _that_ bad?"

"Yeah…"

It was then that the front door flew open again, and the nurses reappeared with something else in tow. It didn't even take looking at to know what it was, for Chi-Chi's calls of protests could be recognized by even the most hard of hearing. She was being escorted with a chair that had two large wheels on either side, and she raised her fists in effort to knock at the nurse who was pushing her.

" _Chi-Chi_!" Bulma groaned, bouncing on her feet to assist.

"I can do it _myself_!" Chi-Chi was screaming, manically waving her arms about. "I may have agreed to come here, **but I still know how to walk**!"

The nurse didn't react to her frantic objections. It seemed that she had mentally removed herself from the situation, staring straight ahead with eyes that were glazed over as she reminisced about more pleasant times.

"Hey, now." Bulma was scolding, crossing her arms and looking down at Chi-Chi as if she were speaking to an unruly child. "We all agreed you shouldn't walk too much. You need to keep your blood pressure down."

"I can still use my arms, can't I?!" Chi-Chi yelled, her voice breaking into a howl towards the end of the sentence. "Can't I at least have _thaaaat?!_ " And with that, Chi-Chi threw her head back and let out a throaty sob.

Bulma dropped her face into her palms, her shoulders rising protectively around her ears as the woman in front of let out a shriek that closely resembled the call of a banshee. Vegeta's hands shot to his own ears, grinding his teeth to keep from yelling at the woman to shut up. The Bluehead had complained about Chi-Chi's unwillingness to cooperate over the last week, but he hadn't imagined her to be acting anything like _this!_

Bringing her hands down from her face, Bulma turned to give Vegeta a _look_ that seemed to say " _see this? I told you it was bad!"_. And in her eyes was even more that he could see – she was tired, she was feeling defeated, and she certainly didn't seem to be happy about this arrangement. It was those eyes that dug into Vegeta, triggering him into action. His motivation stemmed only from wanting to assist his own Woman and not anyone else, and he stepped out from the corner he'd huddled himself against.

He marched up to Chi-Chi without speaking a word, grabbing the handles of the chair away from the nurse. The nurse normally would have insisted on pushing the patient herself, as she was required to do, but she was fairly certain she was going to quit her job once she got back to the hospital anyway. And Vegeta certainly didn't seem like the type of person she wanted to cross, either. Warily holding a hand to her battered cheek, the nurse turned around and made her way back outside for a smoke.

" _Don't push me!_ " Chi-Chi howled, planting her feet into the ground in effort to prevent the chair's wheels from turning. "If I can't walk then I'll use my hands and wheel _myself!_ "

His throat rumbling as he let out a series of curses in a language that wasn't native to Earth, Vegeta slowly bent down so he could whisper into Chi-Chi's ear. " _You were already told that it's of your best interest not to be so physical, and you_ _**know it**_ _."_ He hissed, making Chi-Chi's eyes widen from the venom in his tone. "You have been unruly with Bulma's efforts to care for you in the last week. For all we know, it was your own lack of cooperation that contributed to you landing in this situation. You gave the one who was pushing you a bruised face, you scream so loud that I fear my windows may be broken, and _now_ you attempt to defy my efforts to appease this chaos _you_ have caused. I am not like the woman who was pushing you before. If you try to hit me, I will not flinch, and it will only add to my inspiration to restrain you. Do you really think _this_ is a dent to your dignity? If you so much as speak one more unruly word against us then we may have to abandon this chair altogether, and _then_ what will be left of your options? Shall we resort to strapping you to your bed? How would _that_ work for your pride? Now, start thinking of your health, and _**shut**_ the hell _**up**_."

Her body tense as his words sank in, Chi-Chi turned to look at him over her shoulder. Shooting Vegeta a glare that exhibited every bit of resentment she could muster, her cheeks puffed wide with air and her eyebrows began to furrow into the nastiest scowl she'd ever managed. Vegeta happily returned the gesture, narrowing his dark eyes and slightly raising his ki so she could feel the seriousness of his stance. As they both glowered at one another in their staring match, Vegeta couldn't help but think back on Kakarot. He didn't understand _where_ he and this woman had any commonalities, other than the fact that she seemed to be extraordinarily strong for an Earth woman. Perhaps that – and that _alone -_ was what had attracted his old rival to her, for nothing else about her seemed desirable in the least. Kakarot had been so dimwitted that he probably _did_ need someone like this to knock sense into him every now and then, so perhaps they were a good match, after all?

"Oh, fine!" Chi-Chi let out a huff and turned back around, picking her feet up from the ground and pouting as she crossed her arms. "Take me to my room, then! See if I care!" And with that she allowed Vegeta to continue pushing her across floor. The saiyan locked eyes with Bulma as he passed, and she responded by giving him a weakly grateful look that he could only nod at before continuing to haul Kakarot's wife into her bedroom.

He had gotten her to submit herself to her treatment, but the saiyan refused to assist any more than that. He stepped out of the room with another muttering of strange curses, leaving the physician and nurses to their devices as they transferred Chi-Chi from the chair and into her bed. Gohan, who knew the sounds of his mother's wails far too well, had come clambering downstairs to inspect the situation.

Bulma smiled at the adolescent as he approached, little Trunks' sweaty form appearing behind him. "My, what have you two been up to?" She asked, managing to push away all signs of fatigue from her face so that she wouldn't worry the boys.

"Training!" Trunks cooed, a proud grin forming across his pudgy cheeks.

" _Training?"_ The Bluehead replied, her voice rising with curiosity at the specific word her son had used. Gohan looked away, shrugging shyly before turning back to Bulma. "Um. Miss Bulma? Was that my _Mom_ I heard just now?"

She had been prepared for this, and Bulma put an assuring hand on Gohan's shoulder in effort to comfort him. "Yes, that was your mother. You guys will be staying with us for a little while, okay?"

"I should probably go in there." Gohan gulped. He didn't need to ask why they were suddenly moving in. He'd been on Bulma's side in trying to convince his mother that she needed to be somewhere that wasn't so isolated…

"It may not be a good idea to go in just yet," Bulma offered. A shrill scream erupted through the house, and the Bluehead forced her grin to widen, as if this would somehow cancel out the sound that was ringing through the halls. "Your mother's still settling in."

.

The sun had fallen out of the sky long ago, and Bulma now sat at the bar in the kitchen. She had poured herself a glass of red wine, and she stared at the liquid pensively as she swiveled the drink around in her hand. The week she'd spent trying to care for Chi-Chi was quickly catching up to her, especially after the current day's events. The Bluehead was known to have a temper of her own, and it was exhausting to stifle it in effort of being patient. If it had been a healthy person who had been acting the way Chi-Chi was, Bulma certainly would have yelled back without a second thought. But, well, this was Goku's _widow –_ and she was sickly pregnant! The Bluehead would have to be completely heartless to not give her a pass.

But _damn,_ it was _draining!_

As she took a sip of her red win she could hear the sound of a chair pulling up beside her, and a moment later she saw two large arms rest over the countertop. Putting her glass down she turned to give Vegeta a tired smile as she rested her hand into her palm. He was watching her with those deeply dark eyes of his, in that way he _always_ looked at her. Curiously. Determined. Cautious. Awe. He would always peer at her as if he were studying a magnificent science experiment, trying to memorize it so he could understand the key.

"They're all asleep." The Blue beauty broke the silence, her voice sounding dry before taking another sip from the glass.

"Good."

She could feel the effects of the alcohol already – in her teenage years Bulma had certainly been no stranger to drinking, and she had even managed to somewhat burned herself out on the act. Drinking now was a rather rare occurrence, which did not combine well with her light weight. But, _Kami_ , she needed it tonight!

"You aren't happy about this arrangement." The saiyan eyed the glass that quickly emptying as Bulma swigged. He was pretty sure he'd _never_ seen her drinking before, and something about this scene was concerning.

"I'm happy she won't be alone anymore." Bulma shrugged. She grabbed the bottle to pour herself one more glass, thinking that she would pace herself a little better with this next one. "I'm just… _overwhelmed._ "

"She had no one else she could stay with?"

She was fixated on the bottle to be sure not to spill it, but she knew he was still watching her as she worked. She could _feel_ his eyes piercing into her skin, his serious demeanor warm on her skin. "Her father – she could have, I suppose. But there aren't any proper medical resources where he lives, and she only be even farther away." With that she took another sip, feeling a little light-headed as the drink went straight to her veins. Wanting to change the subject, the turned back to the saiyan and raised her eyebrows into a knowing grin. "I suppose you noticed the lack of paparazzi outside today?"

He smirked in response, light flickering into his dark eyes. "Not a single one! It was delayed, but your plan worked."

Something about the look in his eyes made Bulma forget about just how stressed she'd been only a few moments earlier, and her grin formed into a genuine smile. "It wasn't delayed!" She quipped, taking another sip. "It worked perfectly from day one! The single night we spent out completely repaired our tarnished reputation – you went from being the world's most feared _villain_ to the most desirable sexy-man!"

The saiyan suddenly broke eye contact to cough in his hands before looking back up at his Woman, his eyes wide. She spoke bluntly enough as it was, but she'd never said something like that before! The drink must have been getting to her already! " _Sexy-man?"_

"They all wanted even more of _you_ , don't you see?" Bulma didn't seem to notice his modest reaction to her words at all, continuing with her spiel. "They were publishing articles on ways to develop a relationship as close as ours! It was perfect, really!"

"Then _why_ did they suddenly disappear?" Vegeta challenged, his surprised expression settling back into his usual stone face.

"Because it got _too_ out of hand, and I got worried! They wanted us _too_ much after that! So I sued three of the biggest media networks that have been covering us. It's a rather anti-climatic way to end things, but it worked. They won't publish our images anymore, which means they aren't buying them from the paparazzi. I basically cut off their food supply, and they scattered."

With that she downed the remainder of her glass, and Vegeta watched her with wide eyes. She really _was_ a devious creature, wasn't she? To orchestrate something so simple, yet brilliant! She was already pouring herself a third glass now, and he inched his hand towards hers. "You won against them." He breathed, watching her delicate features in the pale lighting of the dark house.

"They knew they didn't stand a chance against us and settled things right away. Gave us a decent amount of money and stuck to their promise of not publishing anything else. I haven't told them yet, but I'm going to give the money to Chi-Chi once the baby is born and they move back to their house. If they're smart with it then it should support them until the baby's old enough to go to college."

She could feel his fingers sliding over her own as she spoke, and her voice began to fade with distraction. Her vision wasn't nearly as easy to focus as it had been thirty minutes earlier, and she screwed up her eyes as she looked down at her hand. He was rubbing her wrist with one hand, and with the other he was slowly pulling the glass of wine out of her grip, and she found that she really had no desire to protest.

"You're dangerous." Vegeta growled, throwing his head back and downing the drink with one go before the Woman had a chance to take it back. He wasn't keen on drinking after his last episode, but he'd rather do it himself than let her keep going. He could tell by her fluctuating ki and the slur of her words that she had already had enough as it was.

"That's right, alien boy!" Bulma smirked, leaning forward to poke him in the chest. "I told you that you didn't have to destroy anyone. We have our _ways_ on Earth."

"Right." He licked his lips, noting how much _sweeter_ this drink was compared to the wine he'd had at the restaurant. He pushed himself back from the bar, landing on his feet and holding a hand out for Bulma to take. "You need to sleep, you're speaking gibberish."

"That's a _fancy_ word to come out of someone like _you_." She teased, but she took his hand and stood nevertheless. She found the action to be more tricky that she'd expected, and her knees swayed as her head attempted to find balance. She fell, letting out a soft coo as she landed against Vegeta's firm chest.

"Jeez!" He let out a husky laugh, putting his arms around her to make sure she didn't fall yet again. "Next time you should slow down."

"I know."

He scooped her up into his arms, deciding that it was clear enough she wouldn't be able to walk to bed on her own. The last thing he needed was for her to fall down the stairsand hurt herself – then he'd be the one playing caretaker for both his Woman _and_ Kakarot's wife! He was sure he'd never seen his Woman drunk before, and from what he could tell the only difference in her behavior (besides her inability to use her own feet) was that her personality seemed to magnify by multitudes.

For example, she teased him with less provocation and more ferocity than she would have if she was sober. And her affection towards him had altered in the same way.

"Oh, you're so _sweet_!" Bulma sighed loudly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he made his way upstairs with her. "Really Vegeta, you're too _good_ _to me…"_

"Okay." He replied, focusing on the steps he was taking. It was much more subtle than what she was experiencing, but he was starting to feel the effects of the glass of wine he'd swigged. His skin tightened as she nuzzled her face into his neck, finishing her act with a firm kiss that suckled the skin. "I _mean_ it, Vege..."

"I know." He gave the door a soft kick to open it as he carried her into the bedroom, settling her down on the bed before stepping back to change out of his clothes. She watched as he disappeared into his closet, returning a moment later clad in only his boxers.

"Don't you think the same about me?" Bulma asked as he took a spot beside her.

"I do." Vegeta sighed. She was _really_ drunk. It went without saying that he didn't mind when people around him drank, but he wasn't used to seeing it on his Woman. _This_ was making him a bit uncomfortable…

"I know you do, but can't you _tell_ me that?" She asked, curling against his body as he took her into his arms. "You've only told me how you feel _once_ , you know!"

His head wasn't spinning, but it was feeling lighter as he sank into his pillow. He closed his eyes and let out another sigh. He _hated_ the fact that he'd even said it that one time, and now she was asking for it again. He didn't _want_ to repeat it – his actions towards her should be proof enough that it was real! But, then again, as she curled against him and he felt the soft of her skin, he remembered how much stress she'd been putting herself through. How strong she was to not only put up with Kakarot's wife, but _all_ of the bullshit she'd seen in her days. How _caring_ she was despite all of it. How _smart_ she was to design all of the specimens she'd created for him, and even conduct a plan to get rid of the paparazzi so irreparably… And, as Vegeta began to list all of the things about his Woman that he admired in his head, he found that the least he could do was to say it to her if she was _asking_ for it!

He turned, eying her soft expression as she peered at him with dreamy eyes, and he placed a rough hand against her delicate cheek. "Bulma." He breathed, pushing a few loose strands of hair away from her eyes. "You are the most valuable thing I could ever imagine coming across. You possess an immeasurable power to keep me at bay when I feel that there's no good that can come out of life. You give me a reason to train, strive for anything. You've given me a purpose – a place to stay, a goal. My role is to protect you. You - you _are_ the only _good_ I have, the only thing that this _joke_ of a life has rewarded me with. I have nothing else, and even if I did I would give it up if it meant never losing you. Without you, I wouldn't care what happens to me. I wouldn't want to know. You are the only woman I have ever considered in this way, the only person who has ever made such an impact on me… and I… I _love you._ "

He was stroking her cheek now, trying to ease her to sleep as he spoke, and it seemed to be working. She was sinking into his chest as he worked, her eyelids appearing to grow heavy. She smiled softly, as if he had just finished reciting a lullaby to her, and took his hand to lace her fingers with his.

"Vegeta," She whispered, her pretty face even more beautiful than he'd ever thought before.

"Just go to sleep…" He replied. "You're going to be ill in the morning."

"Probably," She smiled, closing her eyes.

He watched as she began to drift to sleep, her chest starting a steady rhythm as it rose and fell against his. He was caressing her shoulders as she slept, the saiyan staring up at the ceiling as his own words replayed in his mind. He didn't even care that he'd failed to shut off the lights, and would risk waking her if he moved to do it now. She'd been pushing herself to her limits, and she needed to rest. Bulma really _was_ the only _good_ he had, and it amazed him. He'd never expected his life to take him to where it had – how _had_ he managed to get in such a place when he'd come of age under such vastly different circumstances?

He looked back down at his Woman's sleeping form, and he pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulders more effectively. She'd done her part in ridding him of the meddling fools with cameras, and yet he had been so vile to her in the past. Once again, as his mind wandered, he shuddered with the thought that he almost hadn't made it in time to save Bulma from the _boar_ in the alley. Yet she was so _good_ to him. Was he a hypocrite to pronounce that his goal was to take care of her when he hadn't even done a good job of _that?_

Vegeta groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. No matter how she acted towards him, or how much she professed her _love_ , he still felt he needed to make it up to her. Letting out one last gulp as he fell asleep, he knew he would do just that.

…Tomorrow was going to be a _long_ day…

* * *


	41. Pow!

* * *

Visions of ash and destruction were running through his head as he slept, and he could feel as she crawled over his body to get out of bed, but it didn't stir him from his dreams. He could tell from the deeply sedated state he was in that it was still quite early – they'd probably only been sleeping for an hour or two. Thinking that she was most likely getting up to empty her alcohol-fueled bladder, Vegeta turned to his side and allowed himself to drift even further into his dreams…

…What _really_ acted to wake him up was the feel of _hands._ The touch wasn't soft, and they staggered across his bare flesh as if they were lost and having trouble finding their way. Maneuvering lower across his torso with sloppy fury, Vegeta's eyes shot open when fingers suddenly wrapped around his tired _crotch._ " _Woman!"_ He hissed, fighting back the urge to sit upright. Instead he pushed her hand away, his chest jolting from the feel.

 _The light was still on._ He'd forgotten that they'd gone to bed with the light on! And he was now looking at her with clarity as she pressed herself into his side, her bare breasts nudging his shoulder as if they were some type of peace offering. "You're have such _nice_ arms…" She mumbled, looking nearly asleep with a dreamy grin and eyelids that were opened in slits. She made to grab him again, and Vegeta's hand shot out to catch her wrist. "Stop it." He said, leaning away from her chest as he put her arm back to her side. He frowned as he looked at her face - she was in even worse condition now than she had been when they'd fallen asleep!

"What's wrong?" Bulma replied, coming off a bit more offended than appropriate. Her voice sounding a few octaves too high for the early hour. "You're really _drunk_." Vegeta stated as he stood from the bed. Letting out an irritated yawn, the saiyan made his way across the room so he could shut off the light for once and for all. "I am _not!"_ Bulma slurred, and the saiyan could tell even through the darkness that her eyes were welling with tears as he returned back to bed. " _You just don't want to make love to me!"_

"Quiet, Bulma! You'll wake everyone!" Vegeta hissed. "You're still intoxicated. Just go back to sleep."

"That's just an _excuse!_ We did _it_ when _you'd_ been drinking, and you were completely fine with it!" She replied through a sniffle.

"That was different! _I_ was the one who was drunk, and I knew that I exactly what I _wanted_!"

"But I know what I want, and I want you _**now**_! Vege-ta! Please…" Bulma whimpered. "How is that _fair?"_

"It doesn't matter if you tell me that! You're saying a lot of things right now, Woman! You're still _drunk!_ "

"It's because you think I'm fat, don't you?"

"What the _hell_ are you on about now?!" Vegeta was so taken aback that his cheeks flushed with heat. "Don't… Don't speak of yourself like that – are you _mad?!"_

"It's true! Isn't it? I'm _fat_. I'm fat, and I'm getting _old_ , and you don't want me anymore!" Her voice was quivering as she spoke, and the saiyan was just glad that she was obediently keeping her voice down despite her emotions. "You look like you haven't aged a day since you turned 23! And here I am – the _Earth_ woman – growing more saggy each time I wake up! Turning into nothing more than fat… and age." Her words slurred with melodramatic sobs, and Vegeta put a tense hand to his strained forehead in order to keep his composure. Where was this all coming from? Was this _really_ what lingered in the depths of Bulma's mind? Moments earlier he'd been enjoying _such_ a pleasant dream! "That's not true." He grunted. What was _wrong_ with her? He always admired the way she looked physically. In fact, he had rather enjoyed the extra soft padding that her body had taken when she'd been pregnant with Trunks. If anything, it had only added to his attraction to her! She'd lost most of it by now, but there wouldn't have been anything wrong if she hadn't. He found her to be breathtaking no matter _what_ size she was! So where was this all coming from? It was as if she saw a different person when she looked in the mirror than what he did! "That's not true." He growled again, turning his head away from her as if this would somehow settle the matter.

"It has to be! You aren't attracted to me anymore! Why else would a man turn down such an eager girl like me? I want you _so_ bad, Vegeta – you have no idea – and you aren't even intrigued! It's because I'm-"

He turned, pulling her into his body and pushing her face down into the muscles of his chest in order to cut her off. " _ **It's because**_ I don't _fuck_ drunk girls!" He hissed. "Now stop it and go to sleep!"

Bulma pulled away to speak again. "But _why_? Am I really _that_ sloppy when I drink? Do I really disgust you with how – "

He forced his eyes closed, letting out a deep sigh. "Alright." He muttered.

The Bluehead softened in his arms. " _Alright?_ " She slurred back. Even with her inebriation, she was in disbelief. What had changed his stance so drastically?

"Alright. If you insist, then I'll give it to you so hard you'll beg for mercy and won't be able to leave bed for a week. But first, I want you to go downstairs and recalibrate the server in my gravity room so that I can spar with a hologram of myself. I've come to realize that I'll never be able to locate a decent sparring partner on this pathetic ball of dirt, and I want to be able to battle with a figure of myself that has been programmed with artificial intelligence."

" _What?_ " Bulma cooed. "I can't do _that_ right now!"

"Oh?" Vegeta turned to look at her even though it was dark and he couldn't see a thing. "You can't do something as simple as _that_ , you say? And why would you say such a thing?"

"I'm too - I'm… I…" Bulma sputtered, not wanting to admit to the saiyan what he'd been telling her all along. "It's too late-"

"It's _because_ you're drunk, and you know it. If you can't perform tasks that would be easy for you to do in your right mind, then why should shagging be any different?" Vegeta growled, pulling her face back into his chest as she began to protest once again. "Honestly, Woman! Stop it! Is an act of respect such a strange concept to you? Do the people on this planet _really_ have no ethics?! The men apparently batter their mates, and the women are shocked when someone doesn't want to take advantage of their vulnerability? For Kami's sake! You're drunk and beside yourself, and you're being irrational! I don't care what you say, I don't want to _**do**_ you in a state like that! I just want you to go to sleep, Woman!"

" _Respect?_ " Bulma's voice was muffled by his chest. "You _mean_ it?"

With a sigh Vegeta threw his head back. "Of course I do, _Woman!_ Now will you _**please**_ cease with all this and just let me sleep while the sun is still down?"

"Oh, Vegeta!" Bulma's slurs became more cheered, and she twined her arms around his neck. "You _really are_ such a sweetheart! I _love you!"_ Vegeta responded by eliciting a low growl, trying to will himself back into slumber as she squirmed against him with clumsy affection. He'd only watched her down _two_ wine glasses! How was it that they had affected her in such a strong way? "I love you!" Bulma cooed again, reaching up to plant a wet kiss across his cheek with an exaggerated _smacking_ sound.

"Okay." Vegeta replied, his eyes still closed as he gave her arm an assuring rub. This was disturbing. If this was how she handled alcohol, he couldn't help but wonder in horror what type of ordeals she may have gotten herself into in her past!

"You're… _so_ … sweet. You know that? You're the _nicest man_ I've ever been with, Vege…"

His eyes shot open. "How many men have you _been_ with?"

"Just _two_ … but the other one never said things to me like _that_." Her slurs softening, it sounded as if _she_ were **finally** drifting to sleep. Vegeta growled under his breath, her grip around him loosening along with her lightening breaths. He had known about her _last_ relationship, and he was somewhat glad to hear that there were no _other_ men to surprise him… but still. Yamcha – _the bastard!_ He'd known that guy was a piece of manure, but based on what the Woman was confessing he hadn't even had the decency to keep to himself during her nights of indulgence. With another growl Vegeta turned away, clamping his eyes shut and trying to clear his mind as the little Woman beside him began to elicit small snores. He was going to have a _very_ hard time getting back to sleep…

...

"Fah-der!" Little Trunks crowed as he popped his head through the cracked door. "You said we will train!"

"Well, plans have changed." Vegeta cracked back, feeling stiff in the chair he'd been sitting in for the last 3 hours. Not pleased with this news, Trunks toddled into the room to take his dad by the hand and give a tug so hard that the saiyan had to grab the arm of the chair to keep from toppling over. Having already been on edge that morning, Vegeta let out a growl and pulled himself back into the seat. The boy was stronger than he gave him credit for, that was to be certain. But if he hadn't been so _damned_ tired, there was no way that pull would have been as successful as it had been! The saiyan was in an exceptionally bad mood that morning. Discontent with the images that Bulma's words about Yamcha conjured in his head, Vegeta hadn't gotten a wink of sleep after the episode with the Bluehead, and now he was _grumpy_.

"You said we will train!" Trunks repeated, scowling up at his dad with a face that reminded Vegeta of the woman that was currently curled around a toilet upstairs. "Last night you said it!"

"I know I said that, Boy, but there's been a change of plans!" Vegeta pulled his hand out of his son's reach, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in the chair.

"Oh, just go and train with him!" Chi-Chi snapped, having been watching the scene unfold from her bed. Vegeta had been in the room with her for _hours_. He been propped up in his chair, keeping watch all morning to make sure she didn't leave the bed. Any time Chi-Chi even attempted to kick her feet down to the floor the saiyan would let out a growl, raising his ki to warn the Woman back into her mattress. "Go on!" Chi-Chi continued, eager to be left alone so she could do what she wanted without a supervisor intervening. "You promised him, didn't you?"

"Stay out of this, Lady!" Vegeta ordered before turning back down to his scorned child. "Go and train with Gohan, son. Perhaps we can do something later in the evening, but as of right now I'm busy."

"Umm… Mr. Vegeta?" As if on cue, Gohan stepped into the room awkwardly. "Is Miss Bulma okay?" He gulped as if he thought he'd be reprimanded for involving himself in someone else's business. The irritable prince rolled his eyes, not enthused to have yet another visitor when all he wanted was silence. "Bulma's fine." He sighed. Moments earlier he had been successfully zoned out, and now there were three individuals that were all speaking to him at once! This morning was quickly turning into a mess.

"But, I can hear her from upstairs… She sounds _sick._ Are you sure we shouldn't check on her?"

"Mommy's sick?!" Trunks gasped dramatically, throwing his little arms in the air. " _Oh no_! My Mommy!"

" _She's fine!_ " The saiyan was gritting his teeth now to keep from yelling. "Gohan. Take my son into the gravity room. The boy needs a distraction, and so do you."

"Hey, don't talk to him like that!" Chi-Chi snarled, and Vegeta turned to shoot her a look of warning. It didn't take any more convincing for Gohan to see that the saiyan was in an exceptionally bad mood that morning, and he scurried through the room to grab Trunks by the wrist. Without speaking a word, the adolescent began to escort the toddler away as little Trunks cried his protests. It only took a few seconds for the two boys to venture into the living room, the door slamming behind them as they went. Vegeta let out a sigh of relief at the silence that had befallen the room once more, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of Chi-Chi's at all during the boys' ordeal. The two adults sat glaring at one another, an unspoken battle of words taking place between them. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Chi-Chi spoke. "You shouldn't speak to the children like that."

"They're fine." Vegeta growled back. It was obvious that he didn't care to use sentences that were longer than necessary. Chi-Chi glared back at the saiyan for a few more seconds, frustration brewing that he wasn't backing down from the stare. When she glowered like this at anyone else they'd be quick to become fidgety, but her scowl seemed to have no effect on this man whatsoever! To be honest, he hadn't even blinked! "I don't _like_ you." She finally settled on stating. " _My_ Goku was a _much_ nicer man than you. _You're despicable._ "

"Oh?" Vegeta growled. "I suppose you intend for me to be offended by that silly statement. Believe me, Lady. Coming from you, that is nothing short of a compliment."

...

"Okay. I'm going strong!" Trunks meant to come off as ominous with his warning, but it sounded more like a jest with his tiny little voice blaring the words. Gohan was standing at the other end of the room, curiously waiting as the toddler began his charge. "Pow! Pow _pow_!" Trunks shouted as he went, circling his fist over his head as if this would give him a competitive edge. Gohan nearly laughed as Trunks caught up to him, the toddler jumping at his face and offering a firm slap. "Hey!" The adolescent grinned, backing away as Trunks slapped him again. "What are you _doing_? That's not what I showed you!"

"I said _pow!_ " An exasperated Trunks replied, as if this explained it all. Why wasn't Gohan cowering at his feet and begging for mercy? He'd just landed a surprise attack on him!

"Pow, _indeed._ " Gohan dodged another slap, taking Trunks' hand into his own and bending down to be face level with him. "Hey now, remember." He folded the child's fingers into a fist. "If you're going to hit, you need to hit like _this_. Remember?"

"But that's too _easy!_ " Trunks gasped. Clearly, he _knew_ how to throw a punch. He'd grown up watching his father do it, and the toddler had proven his capabilities with Gohan during their sessions before now. But he'd put a lot of thought in taking his friend by surprise, hitting him with slaps that the guy surely wouldn't be expecting. So why wasn't he backing down!? Why was he _laughing_!?

"I _know_ you think using fists is too easy, but that's because you're really good at it!" Gohan stood back to full height, looking down at Trunks with a reassuring smile. "And that's why we need to keep practicing, understand?"

"No." The toddler replied, rolling his eyes. Clearly, if he was already good at something, then shouldn't the next step be to move on and focus on new moves? " _No?_ " Gohan replied, taken aback by the serious tone in the child's voice. The toddler grinned to hear such confusion in his friend's tone, and he held his hands up above his head. " _Pow pow pow!"_

_..._

Bulma was cooking something in the kitchen now. Vegeta and Chi-Chi could both smell it as they continued to glare at one another. For how long they'd been stuck in this silent battle, neither was quite sure. The saiyan thought that perhaps an hour had passed since the two bustling children retreated into the gravity room – but, then again, he _did_ have a history of losing track of time when he became focused… Vegeta finally broke his watch on Chi-Chi to turn towards the door, sniffing at the air and feeling his stomach drop into a low growl.

"I'm hungry." Chi-Chi announced, as if she were experiencing the same sensation. "Stay put." Vegeta replied, standing from the chair and making his way for the door. "I'll be back for you in a moment." Chi-Chi was glad enough to see that he was finally leaving, and she didn't dare move from the bed while he was still within eyeshot.

Into the living room the saiyan went, quickly making his way for the kitchen. He could hear the sizzling of meat in a pan, the aroma of steaming vegetables and bubbling stew intoxicating his senses. And, just as he'd been hoping, he stepped in to the room to see _Her_ standing above the stove. She looked up to hear him enter, sporting a groggy smile.

" _Two_ glasses did _this_ to you?" Vegeta smirked. The Bluehead looked like she'd only _just_ rolled out of bed, her hair un-brushed and her eyelids heavy.

"I've always been a lightweight." Bulma shrugged, though she did feel slightly embarrassed. She could remember the things she'd said to Vegeta during the night, and perhaps some of her tirade was true. If _two_ glasses of wine could make her _this_ hungover, then perhaps she really _was_ getting old! "I'm sorry about waking you." She said, turning back to the meat on the stove to avoid eye contact. It was always awkward to face someone for the first time after such impairment.

"Right." The saiyan nodded. He thought it was clear that making amends wasn't in order – in fact, he'd let Bulma sleep in all morning while _he'd_ taken watch on Chi-Chi, hadn't he? Without saying another word the saiyan fetched himself a glass of water and chugged it down, excitement brewing at the prospect of eating soon. Whatever the Woman was cooking smelled _really_ good!

"So, how have things been going with Chi-Chi this morning?" Bulma asked, plating the meat and shutting off the stove. She wiped her greasy hands on her pants before carrying two large dishes out to the dining room table. She was planning to assist her pregnant house-guest to the table once she finished setting it.

"She hates me." The saiyan replied. He opened his mouth to make a sarcastic remark on the attitude of Kakarot's wife, but he suddenly sensed something that put him on edge. It was a spark of ki that flared from Chi-Chi's room. A power that suddenly erupted through his nerves before it quickly dissipated. A moment later he felt Chi-Chi's own ki jolting, and the saiyan raised his eyebrows when he heard a yell.

* * *


	42. Stomach Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after all of that posting, we have finally caught up. This is the farthest I have gotten in this story. Sadly, this means that my updates will become less frequent from now on. Likewise, I'll have now more time to devote to reading more fanfiction on this site, and creating new content of my own! :) I had put a pause on writing new material so I could focus on publishing my work to AO3, and I'm ready to start again!

Bulma had grown quite used to Chi-Chi's screams since she'd started taking care of her, but this time things were different. Her yells waved through the hallways with such remorse that it made the Bluehead's spine curl with a dreaded sense of forbidding. And if this hadn't been enough to put her on edge, the look on Vegeta's face had certainly done it. Chi-Chi was on the floor when the couple barged in the room. Screaming hysterically as tears flushed her angry cheeks, the expectant mother didn't protest at all as Bulma and Vegeta hoisted her back to her feet. In reality, Vegeta could have done the task entirely by himself, but the Bluehead was too upset to just stand by without helping. "It hurts!" Chi-Chi was crying, sitting back on the bed as she held her stomach.

"Of course it _hurts_ , you dumb Woman! You fell out of bed!" Vegeta growled. Kakarot's wife had required such high maintenance during her short stay, and he couldn't even leave her alone for a mere few minutes without something happening! He was feeling resentful – the last thing he wanted to do was physically handle Kakarot's wife, and now he'd been forced to. His hands! His _poor_ hands! They felt so _violated!_ Bulma gave him a sharp jab with her elbow before kneeling down beside the crying widow. " _What happened?_ " She breathed, the sinking ache of worry building in her throat. It wasn't safe for a pregnant woman to fall – and especially not on her stomach.

"I just wanted to get up!" Chi-Chi groaned, her cries sounding more pained now than angry. "I was hungry! And I needed to move!"

"You _know_ you're supposed to stay in bed…" Bulma sighed, her blue eyebrows raising with concern as she studied Chi-Chi's agonized face. " _This_ is why we didn't want you to be so mobile, don't you _understand_? We wanted to _avoid_ things like this happening…"

"I know – I _know!_ I don't need to hear anymore! _This_ is punishment enough, okay?!" Chi-Chi was holding still holding her stomach, and she was now rocking back and forth as burning jolts ran up and down her spine. Her cheeks had paled, her face dropping to look down at her throbbing belly. Bulma followed her lead to see what she was looking at, and her eyes widened when she saw the color that was building around Chi-Chi's trembling thighs. There were no words as she gasped.

 _Chi-Chi was **bleeding**_.

Vegeta had noted the smell of iron in the room, which seemed to be growing stronger as the seconds passed. It was enough to take his mind off his degraded ego. He could _sense_ it. The spike of Bulma's ki as her heart began to beat faster. The quivering energy of Kakarot's wife as she sobbed. The unrecognizable ki that he'd sensed back in the kitchen, which had been strikingly high but was now dimming with every moment that went by.

"Stay here!" Bulma suddenly snapped, jumping up to race for the phone. She didn't speak another word before she was gone, leaving the two alone. Vegeta watched Chi-Chi from where he stood, now able to see the growing pool of blood she was sitting in, which Bulma's body had previously blocked from his view.

' _Well, **fuck**.' _ He thought with a gulp.

.

"You have to get here!" Bulma yelled at the phone. "Bring _all_ of your equipment. It's urgent!"

"Well, it's only been a day!" Dr. Plocks replied. "You lot are quite the handful, aren't you?"

"I'm serious! She fell – it's _bad._ She's in a lot of pain, there's a _lot_ of blood – _oh_ – this isn't going to end well. You need to get here right now!" Bulma screamed. Dr. Plocks didn't even say anything back. He simply grunted in agreement and hung up the phone.

During the time the Bluehead had spent with Chi-Chi, it seemed that all she did was either cry or scream. Regardless of which course of action she chose to communicate with, she was _always_ hysterical. It had taken all the energy Bulma could muster to patiently tolerate this, digging into the depths of her core to remember how hard the expectant mother's situation truly was. It was ironic, then, that the Bluehead was now filled with dread when she hung up her phone and realized that Chi-Chi's cries had abruptly stopped. She should have been happy for this rare moment of silence, but the eerie calm that was now wafting through the air was anything but pleasant.

_Why wasn't Chi-Chi crying anymore?_

Frantic, Bulma darted back for the bedroom, wondering in horror what had happened in the few moments she'd been on the phone. Could it be that Chi-Chi had passed out? Had she _bled_ out? Why wasn't Vegeta helping in any of this?! Shouldn't he have been calling for her – or doing _something -_ if Chi-Chi was so hurt? Her heart in her throat now, Bulma stopped at the door and looked into the room, her mouth dropping open at what she saw.

Chi-Chi, still holding her stomach, had her eyes closed. She didn't appear to be awake, but it seemed that she had merely fallen _asleep_ rather than fallen unconscious. Her face soft, no more wrinkles of pain, she almost seemed peaceful as she dozed. It wasn't just Chi-Chi that had caught Bulma's eyes – it was also _Vegeta._ The saiyan stood beside the ailed mother, his palm digging into her slumbering shoulder. A soft _humming_ sound could be heard as he stood, his body so still that it was almost as if the Bluehead was staring at a couple of mannequins instead. Much like the moment Bulma and Vegeta had shared after their encounter under the waterfall, Vegeta's eyes were closed in what looked like lazy concentration. The two were surrounded by a glowing orb of golden light, and Bulma knew from experience how warm it felt to be on the inside of it. Whatever his goal in this act was, the Bluehead had no doubt that the sensation was comforting enough to ease Chi-Chi to sleep. Her heart warmed as she caught her breath, realizing that Vegeta _had_ been helping after all…

..

The door to the gravity room could be heard as Gohan stepped into the main hall. Little Trunks was teetering behind him, feeling uneasy by how tense his friend had suddenly become. The adolescent had felt the same ki that Vegeta had – he'd heard his mother's cries. What on _Earth_ was going on?

"Miss Bulma." Gohan gulped, seeing the Bluehead as she stood in the entryway of his mother's room. The Bluehead turned around, and the adolescent could see from the look on her face that something was wrong. She tried to smile at him, but it did nothing to clear her skin from lines of worry under her eyes. "Gohan." She breathed.

"Is everything alright?" He replied, and the forced smile on her face suddenly dropped. "Your mother had… an _accident._ She… well, the doctor is on his way… she'll be okay."

" _What_?" Gohan brushed past Bulma so he could walk into the room, gulping at he saw Vegeta standing with his mom. The saiyan prince still had his eyes closed in concentration, but when he felt the boy enter he looked up. "Come here." The adolescent obliged, stepping carefully towards the golden sphere that was engulfing his mother and Vegeta. "Put your hand on her stomach. She needs your energy."

"I… _What?_ " Gohan asked, looking up at Vegeta with the same timid expression that always seemed to irritate him.

"It is similar to powering up, but you are focusing your power through your hand rather than your entire body. Just concentrate, boy, and do it. Now."

With a gulp the adolescent did as he was told, placing his shocked right hand over his mother's belly. He looked back up to Vegeta for more guidance, but he had already closed his eyes once more. _'Just concentrate…'_ Gohan thought, and he closed his own eyes, feeling the cloth of his mother's shirt through his hand. He began to raise his ki, subtly to keep control. As he felt the pounding of his heart with the boost of adrenaline, he began to focus solely on his hand. ' _Go to her._ ' He thought, imagining each vein that made up his body, trying to will all of his blood to the fingers on his right hand. He could feel as his chest seemed to fall cold, a warmth radiating in his palm instead…

…How… _fascinating_ …

He was doing it! He was actually supplying energy! Gohan heard a clatter going on around him, but none of it was enough to concern him. He was far too amazed by his own actions. It wasn't until he felt a palm on his own shoulder that he looked up to see Bulma trying to pull him away. "Gohan, honey... The doctor's here. Let's give him some room to work." Still in disbelief, the boy let go of his mother and walked back out into the living room with the Bluehead following behind.

Vegeta was already sitting on a couch, his eyes shut as Trunks hugged his leg. He could hear as Kakarot's son approached, and he opened his eyes just as Gohan began to take a seat on the couch across from him. "You did good."

Gohan was so unused to Vegeta offering praise that the sentence didn't seem to register. "What was that?" He asked dumbly, listening as the doctor in the other room was giving orders to his assistants.

"The infant is dying." Vegeta growled. "And it was taking your mother down with it. Her body was overexerting its energy supply in order to keep the child alive. I was able to sustain them both on my own, but you focusing your ki directly to the infant was enough of a boost that it might survive without us in there – _if_ those physicians don't screw it all up."

Letting out a sharp sigh of worry, Gohan slid from the couch and onto the floor, dropping his head into his hands. Suddenly feeling as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, the adolescent groaned. How on _Earth_ had he ended up in a situation like this? Where was his father – why couldn't his Dad be there to help at a time like this? What was he to do?! He'd already lost his father. He didn't need to lose his mother – and unborn brother – too…

Trunks had never seen his _best friend_ look as upset as he did in that moment. He didn't know what to do other than scoot over to Gohan and place a pudgy hand on his arm. "Go-ahn." The tot offered, as if this would be all the reassurance he would need. It seemed that the loud lady was upsetting poor Gohan. That lady sure was irritating, but Trunks still didn't want anything bad to happen to her. Not only would that be _scary_ , but it would cause Gohan pain. Daddy had said it was _the infant._ That _infant_ seemed to be the cause of all of this, and little Trunks lamented it! It was causing _so_ much trouble, and it wasn't fair! He'd teach that infant a lesson if he had to!

…What _was_ an infant, _anyway_?

..

If Dr. Plocks hadn't already been desensitized to strange happenings when it came to the Briefs family, he would have been beside himself to see his patient coffined in a golden bubble as two strange boys hovered around her. But, then again, this _was_ the Briefs family, after all! Bulma had given birth to a boy with a tail! So he simply shrugged away his shock after they had left the room, and began to set up his equipment. He'd seen the pool of blood that Chi-Chi was sleeping in, and he understood fully well that the situation was just as urgent as Bulma had insisted.

"We need to induce birth." He announced to his assistant after checking the patient's vitals and running a sonogram.

"But, doctor. She's still a couple months early!" The assistant replied. "Is this really the necessary course of action? There's nothing else we can do?"

"The child has far exceeded the natural staging of development. The baby has a chance to survive outside the womb. We need to deliver, and we're going to need to do it surgically. If she attempts a natural birth, they both will likely die."

The assistant nodded, running into the living room to announce the situation. Bulma, who hadn't been in earshot when Vegeta told Gohan the news about Chi-Chi's condition, was now sitting beside the saiyan on the couch. He had purposely abstained from informing her, knowing perfectly well that it was beyond her control. He'd decided the best course of action was to spare her from the stress of it – at least, for as long as possible. The Bluehead was in such shock to hear the news from the assistant that she nearly fainted. She let out a groan, her eyes rolling as she fell against the saiyan, who nudged her back to reality. "Now isn't the time to grow weak, Woman!" He growled in her ear. "Don't lose your grip."

"The name's _Bulma!_ " She hissed back, snapping out of her dizziness. "I thought we agreed you'd start calling me that!"

"Stay conscious, and I shall."

"Excuse me." The assistant interrupted. "We need to start the surgery _now._ We can only allow one other person to be in the room during the procedure. Please decide quickly and come with me."

"I need to go!" Gohan shouted, jumping to his feet. "I need to be with my mom!"

The assistant seemed taken aback by his age, and she looked to the couple for approval. Bulma was nodding while Vegeta crossed his arms. "The boy should go. It's his duty, and he will take care of her should anything go wrong. Remember what I told you, boy. Should they need your ki, you will be there to provide." It was an incredibly odd thing to say, but there was no time to ask this disturbingly muscular man what the _hell_ he was talking about, so the assistant turned and ushered Gohan out of the room as she went.

"Go! Go! Go-ahn!" Trunks called, by means of encouragement, but the adolescent didn't respond as he ran.

The two now alone with Trunks at their feet, Bulma sank into Vegeta's form as she let out a deep breath. "This is all so terrible." She breathed. "It's happening so fast! I just-"

"Gohan is in there. She'll be fine."

The Bluehead looked up. "You really think so?"

"Am I known to be a liar?"

.

It only took a couple of minutes before the baby came out. Gohan, having never witnessed a surgery before – let alone the delivery of a child – had expected it to take much longer. He stood by his mother's head, trying not to look at gaping hole in her stomach as she continued to sleep without any knowledge of what was going on. He had his hand on his mother's arm, prepared to offer her ki if she needed it - just as Vegeta had shown him to do. He stood patiently, focusing on her expressionless face as he waited for the sound of a baby's cries to indicate that the procedure was over. Such a noise never came, though, and the only thing that alerted him of the delivery was gasping that squeaked out of one of the assistants.

"Good lord!" Dr. Plocks breathed. Gohan looked up to see the doctor holding the baby, trying desperately to rip something away from its throat. His eyes widened, realizing _exactly_ what it was. "I thought it was the umbilical cord in the sonogram!" The doctor spat, frantically trying to loosen it enough to allow oxygen to pass through the baby's airway.

_It was his tail._

The infant, his face taking on a blue hue with his eyes clamped shut, had somehow managed to coil his tail tightly around its throat during Chi-Chi's fall. He was in physical distress, which only proved to make the tail clench even tighter as the doctor fought to pry it open. "I… if I try to cut it, he'll bleed out!" He growled, trying desperately to force his fingers between the tail and the baby's neck. Gohan ran from his mother, approaching the struggling doctor with determination.

"Stand back!" Dr. Plocks snapped. "This isn't time to intervene, kid!" Gohan ignored him, grabbing the baby and yanking him away with such force that the doctor let go with fear of his arms snapping. The adolescent made it look _too_ easy when he grabbed the tail at its base and ripped. With a loud pop the fuzzy extremity snapped from the infant's rear, the tail consequently loosening from around his throat before falling to the ground with a thud. It took no time at all for the baby to gulp in a lump of air, opening his mouth and letting out an ear rattling scream of relief.

Dr. Plocks, who now sat on the floor, was staring at the tail that had landed beside him. His mouth dropped open, he looked up to see that there wasn't even a drop of blood bubbling from the baby's rear as he screamed. This child – this child that had been born months early and yet appeared to be full term… This child that had just had a tail ripped off! He was now screaming as if to announce his presence in the world after defying all odds.

' _Everything I know about anatomy… is turning out the be a lie.'_ Dr. Plocks thought, his chest trembling. It wasn't until he'd worked with Bulma that he'd ever delivered a baby with a _tail_ – and _now_ he'd seen this! It was _too_ much to comprehend! It wasn't possible!

_Who **were** these people?!_

"Don't just sit there!" Gohan snapped. "Sew my mom back together! Finish your job!"

Vegeta, who was listening carefully to the commotion from the other room, smiled when he heard this. The boy certainly _had_ been capable, after all…

.

Thirty minutes later, after Chi-Chi had been stitched up and the baby had been cleaned, she began to stir from her sleep. She felt warmth surrounding her as she opened her eyes, turning to see her sweet Gohan as he offered her his ki. _This trick Vegeta had shown him was great! It was certainly proving to be useful!_

Dr. Plocks sat in the corner hugging his knees as he watched, shaking his head at the golden orb that was surrounding his patient once again. The first time he'd witnessed it he'd managed to shrug it off. But now, especially after the shock from delivery, he felt he would have a mental breakdown as he looked. How was that pre-teen doing all of this?! He just couldn't understand! _It made no sense!_

"Look, Mom." Gohan said, pulling his hand away from her shoulder and ceasing with his newly-learned trick. The warmth slowly faded from around them, and Chi-Chi looked over to see that he was holding something in his opposite arm. She smiled. It felt as if her body was rejuvenated – it had required _so much_ for her to carry that child. No longer did it seem as if she were gasping through a dark cloud, all of her strength draining as she helplessly sank. Every bite of food she'd eaten – every suction of oxygen. It had all gone to her baby. Her body had been wasting away just so the boy would grow. And now she was free. No longer was she overwhelmed with the sense of impending doom, as if her body was warning her to prepare for death. No longer did she feel so alone and defenseless. A weight had been lifted from her veins, her bones revitalized and strong. She'd been passed out during the operation, but she knew even before she'd opened her eyes that her baby had been born. She was suddenly able to breathe for _herself_ once again.

The baby, swaddled into a large fuzzy blanket, was sleeping happily as he nuzzled against his big brother's side. "Look who's here." Gohan said, holding him up and placing the infant on his mother's chest.

"He looks just like your father." Chi-Chi breathed. "Just _look_ at that hair!"

"Yeah, you always did say that Dad was a handful." Gohan replied. "Just _wait_ until you hear what happened while you were asleep."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned, this is the farthest I have gotten in this story so far. I hope you've enjoyed reading up until this point! The 7 Year Gap is such a vast amount of time, this story might just continue indefinitely! Currently I am working on Chapter 43. So far it has about 1500 words, but it is definitely going to have a lot more than that once it is finished.
> 
> I also have a story called "Finding Immortal" that I am also working on. This is my first attempt at an AU, and I've been coming up with different ideas on where the story can go during the break I've taken from writing new material. Now that I am done posting everything, my focus will now be on updating both stories as often as I can. Unfortunately, it takes me a little bit longer to create new material than it does for me to proof-read old stuff. That being said, I hope you'll stick around. ;)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been following and reading up until this point. I understand that it does take time to read, and it means a lot that you chose to use that energy on my own work! I'm always amazed and flattered when I see I've been getting views, kudos, or comments. You are all so encouraging and amazing, I don't know if I could ever express this enough!


	43. Post-Op

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize that I would be finishing up with Chapter 43 so soon, but here it is! The next chapter may take a week or two before it is ready to be published. I hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

 

Bulma was shaking as she sat beside Vegeta, digging her nails into his wrist as she gasped. "Do you think everything's alright in there?" She breathed. "There was so much yelling just now, and nobody's come out yet. What's going on?!"

The saiyan put a hand on her thigh to soothe her, but she continued to tremble even under the weight of his firm palm.

"Something went really bad." She gasped. "I just know it. Oh, Kami, I wish they would just tell us, already!"

"They're alright" Vegeta grunted. "I feel them. Gohan took care of things."

"But why isn't anyone coming out?!" She hissed. "I just - "

"Am I known to lie?"

"No."

"Am I known to sugarcoat?"

"...No."

"Right. And I'm telling you they're fine. So calm down."

"I can't just _calm down!"_ The Bluehead sank even deeper into the couch, letting go of Vegeta with a groan. The saiyan was speaking so matter of factly, with hardly any emotion at all, and it did little to soothe her frantic mind. She knew to trust his intuition, for when it came to survival he knew what he was talking about. But still - something had been wrong. Chi-Chi was already having an emergency delivery to begin with, and the clutter going on behind that closed door was too much for her to simply shrug off. She wouldn't feel better until she could see with her own eyes that everyone was okay.

Suddenly the bedroom door swung open, and out stepped Dr. Plocks, who looked rather green in the expression. Bulma jumped when she saw him, thinking that something must surely be horrible for him to have such a grim face. "Doctor!" She gasped, and slowly he turned. With a tight smile, he nodded at her.

The relief that washed over the Bluehead when he told her that Chi-Chi and the baby were okay was overwhelming. And as soon as she was given the permission she flew into the room, stopping at the bed and looking down at the bundle in Chi-Chi's arms. Gohan, standing at the other side of his mother, looked more tired than even she did post-delivery. He gave Miss Bulma a polite smile, excusing himself from the room so he could go sit down.

"Gohan told me everything." Chi-Chi hummed, her voice soft and breathy as she looked down at the face of her newest son. "The baby's tail was wrapped around his neck, but my boy saved the day."

"I knew I heard something going wrong." Bulma sighed, placing a hand to her chest as she admired the delicate face of the infant. The only experience she had with babies was with her own son. This was the Bluehead's first time dealing with childbirth aside from her own, and she was surprised at how foreign the experience felt as a witness.

"He looks just like his father." Chi-Chi smiled, and Bulma was shocked when she put a hand to her own cheek and felt tears. "He really does. He looks just like Goku..."

"Where is your man?" Chi-Chi continued, her eyes never once leaving her new son.

Bulma was about to go get Vegeta, but when she looked towards the door he was already there. It was as if he could sense that his presence had been requested, the saiyan leaning against the frame and looking into the room with his arms crossed. Sensing the shift of air, Chi-Chi followed the Bluehead's gaze. When she saw him she smiled even wider, her eyes seeming to light up more than they already had. "Vegeta."

The saiyan appeared to be taken aback by how soft Chi-Chi had spoken towards him. His relaxed posture suddenly stiffened, and he stepped off the doorframe with marked discomfort on his features.

"Do you want to see him?" Chi-Chi breathed, gesturing down as the pile of blanket she was holding. Feeling awkward, Vegeta looked to his woman for lead on how he should be acting in a situation such as this. Bulma, who still had tears in her eyes, gave him a slight nod.

Kakarot's wife had made her disdain of him quite clear. Why was she suddenly acting so _warm?_ He didn't know why she would be speaking to him in such a way. Perhaps she was still loopy from the childbirth? Whatever it was, Vegeta felt that he needed to use caution as he slowly stepped into the room. She was behaving sweetly now, but this woman could easily become hostile at any given moment, and Vegeta wasn't fond of walking into some type of verbal trap.

When he finally arrived at the bedside, Bulma placed a light hand on his arm. "Look," She breathed. The saiyan bit his lip, feeling overwhelmed that all eyes seemed to be on him. Chi-Chi held her arms out and pulled the blanket back, revealing the infant's face.

"Kakarot." Vegeta muttered.

"Goku." Chi-Chi corrected, beaming from ear to ear. She scooted in the bed so that she could be even closer to Vegeta's view, the saiyan continuing to stare down at the child. The baby was asleep, completely oblivious to the ordeal it had put everyone through. As Vegeta continued to look down at the boy in this woman's arms, he became acutely aware of just how quiet the room had become. It was as if both of the women were watching his every move, waiting for him to make some type of statement.

"Hmm…" Vegeta cleared his throat. Bulma's palm was still resting on his bicep, lightly resting her head against his shoulder as she looked at the bed. He had absolutely no idea of what to say. When Trunks had been born, there had been a lot of chaos going on, with the Bluehead's parents and doctor making a clatter all about. Vegeta himself had been distracted by Trunks' tail, angrily warning the doctor not to even think about removing it. To contrast, the scene that was currently unfolding was silent. It was slow, it was even somewhat _peaceful,_ and it was absolutely foreign to him. Unsure of what the women were wanting him to say, Vegeta finally settled on "Well, the boy is healthy."

"I know he is." It seemed that this was what Chi-Chi had wanted to hear, for she took a delightedbreath and reached up for Vegeta. The saiyan nearly jumped when he felt her fingers brushing against his wrist, sliding down his arm until she had taken his hand into her own. "Vegeta…" She breathed, pulling his fingers towards the infant. " _Thank you._ "

The saiyan's eyes widened, and he quickly turned his head to see Bulma's take on this. _What the hell was Kakarot's wife doing?!_ _ **Bulma**_ _was the only woman permitted to get this physical with him!_ But, rather than finding offense by her gestures, his Woman seemed to be flattered instead. She gave him a slight nudge, indicating that she wanted him to step closer to the bed, and Vegeta reluctantly obliged.

Chi-Chi continued pulling on Vegeta's hand, resting it on the cheek of the baby. She let go of him, leaving the saiyan standing with his open palm cupping the child's face. The saiyan stared down at the boy, feeling the warmth of its skin radiating into his own, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Vegeta," Chi-Chi said softly, her eyes closing as her lethargy began to catch up to her once again. " _Thank you."_

.

"Now when you hit you here, I'll fall. And you will watch how I do it. You will see that I'll start to roll before I land. Understand?"

"But I want to train with Go-ahn!" Trunks groaned.

"Gohan is resting, son. He's had a long day. Now, come on. I want you to try and land a punch on me."

With an howl of protest, Trunks dug his feet into the ground. He was staring up at Vegeta, who was floating three meters above him, and the toddler scowled.

"Well?" Vegeta called, crossing his arms. "Come on, son. Punch me!"

"Dad!" Trunks yelled back, feeling so frustrated that he was nearly in tears. He loved training with his father, but he wanted Gohan to be there, as well. The toddler had grown used to the way Gohan sparred with him. The stark change with his dad's training style only seemed to magnify the fact that his best friend was missing from the scene. "You're too high!"

"And what must you do if you can't reach me?" The saiyan was hovering upside-down now, as if taunting the boy.

" _I can't fly!_ " Trunks shot back, his little hands trembling.

"Rubbish!" Vegeta spun around so he was floating upright again, and he began to rise even higher into the air. "You are _my_ son, and you are fully capable of flying, boy. Now stop with the excuses and come punch me."

Oh, if only he _really_ could fly! Trunks was so upset in that moment that he wanted nothing more than to prove to his Dad just how capable he was, but the fact was that he _just_ couldn't. He didn't have any ideas on where he could even attempt to start!

"Come on, son!" Vegeta suddenly barked. Trunks jumped to see that his father's face had appeared right in front of him, the saiyan floating upside down again. Vegeta was hovering at eye-level with the boy, his arms crossed as he defied gravity in more than one way. "Well? I'm right here now. Land a punch."

This was it - his chance to teach his father not to underestimate him! Trunks launched at his dad, swinging his little arm. Just as he was about to land his knuckles into his father's cheek, Vegeta suddenly disappeared. The toddler let out a gasp, trying not to lose his balance, his arms flailing as he wobbled back and forth.

"Nice try." Vegeta said, making his location known, and the toddler looked up to see the saiyan standing across the room now as he leaned against a wall. "Your aim was correct, but your speed is lacking."

"I'm not slow!" Trunks retorted, taking off for his father and running as fast as his little feet would allow him to. Just as he was about to throw another punch as his Dad, the saiyan disappeared again, and Trunks' fist went into the wall instead.

"Too predictable." The Saiyan's voice boomed in his little ear. Vegeta was now crouching down behind his son. He could feel Trunks' ki rising with his exasperation, and the saiyan was grinning at how naturally this was all coming to the boy. The toddler let out a yell, spinning on his heel and swinging a fist. With no considerable effort at all Vegeta jumped straight up to dodge the blow, letting out an audible _"tssk"_ as he did so. Trunks threw another punch, and Vegeta jumped again.

"I will get you, Da-ad!" The child snapped, his chubby cheeks turning red as the frustration continued to build.

"Not like that, you won't." Vegeta quipped, jumping yet again.

"Stop it!" Trunks howled, throwing yet another unsuccessful punch. Vegeta jumped again, this time throwing himself back a meter rather than straight up in the air.

"Come back!" Trunks screamed, launching after him. He caught up to his Dad in only half of a second, and continued his attempts at landing a blow on his father. This time, instead of dodging, Vegeta caught his son's fist with his own hand. The saiyan threw back his head and let out a husky laugh, squeezing his son's wrist as he did so.

"Not funny!" Trunks scowled.

"Oh?" Vegeta replied, smirking down at the lavender haired tot in front of him. "And I thought you said you couldn't fly?"

It was at this that Trunks' eyes widened, sporting an expression that reminded Vegeta so much of Bulma when she'd made some kind of scientific epiphany. The toddler looked down to see that they were both now hovering about two meters in the air. Carefully, as if doubting his understanding of the situation, Trunks looked back up at his dad. Then, a moment later, he dropped his eyes back to the floor. "I'm…" He muttered, his small mouth dropping open.

"Yes, son."

"I am…" Trunk's cheeks broke into a shiny smily. "I'm flying! Yay!" And, with that, just as the child began to let out a cheer of celebration, he could feel his body tremble. Feeling as if his own backbone was growing weaker, the muscles in his legs gave a slight jolt. Then, within only a second, the boy was falling down into the ground. His body hit the floor with a loud crash, and Trunks clasped both arms over his head as he gasped through the recoil. He could feel his eyes growing moist, pain radiating through his rear that he'd landed on. "Ouchie! Ow, ow, ow!"

"You didn't land the way I told you to." Vegeta's feet touched the ground next to the boy, crossing his arms as he looked down as his son. "Are you weak?"

"No!" Trunks growled, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes and pulling himself back to his feet. "I'm tough!"

"Good." The saiyan gave the toddler a nod, unable to keep the smirk from his lips. "Flying will become more natural as you get older, but you need to remember to concentrate in the beginning. It'll take practice, understand? This is why you need to learn how to properly land."

Trunks looked up at his father with a smile, balling his little hands into fists. "I flew!" He squealed, waving his arms and jumping enthusiastically into the air to show his cheer. "I flew, I flew, _I flew!"_

A smirk still on his face, Vegeta turned to make his way for the door to the gravity room. The truth was that he'd needed that training session just as much as his son had. It was good to have an outlet. There was a lot of pent up tension about the household as of late, and the birth of Kakarot's newest son had only helped to slightly ease the mood. While Chi-Chi was no longer as hysterical and difficult to speak with as she had been during her pregnancy, the news of the birth had spread amongst her social circle, and that was causing an entirely new load of stress for the saiyan prince.

At that very minute, all of Kakarot's old friends were on their way to pay a visit. Even his old teacher, Master Roshi, was on his way. This was always customary to do when a new baby had been born, even back on his own native planet. The one thing that seemed odd was that Vegeta didn't remember any of them making such an effort to visit with Bulma after she had birthed Trunks – but, _then again_ , she _had_ kept it a secret from everyone…

The idea of them all invading his personal home was violating enough to think of. But what made him feel even worse was that, included in the group of visitors, would be Yamcha.

_Yamcha._

Just the name alone made Vegeta want to growl. He could hardly care about anyone else that would be prying into his personal space, but that _scar-faced weasel_ had always gotten on the saiyan's nerves. He still hadn't forgotten about the confession that Bulma had made when she'd been drunkenly spewing nonsense, either.

Vegeta had personally witnessed how unfairly he'd treated the Bluehead during their time as a couple. And, as it turned out, he hadn't even seen the blunt of it all. If what Bulma had implied at was true, then the saiyan just had another item to add to the list of things he detested about that guy. Yamcha wasn't just a _worm,_ but he was a perverted wart. He hadn't even kept to himself during times when her state of mind was at its most vulnerable, and Vegeta considered that to be unforgiveable.

 _Nobody_ mishandled _his Bulma…_

He wasn't so sure if he'd be able to keep to himself when he saw that scar-face. As far as Vegeta was concerned, the Z-Fighter had no business being in any close proximity to his Woman at all. He didn't deserve it!

Bulma had begged him to be on his best behavior when everyone showed up. She'd said that she was stressed enough as it was, and she didn't need any type of altercation adding to it. Vegeta had promised he would _try._ He would _try_ to keep his patience, to keep from lashing out.

But he wasn't so sure if he'd be able to. Not if he saw Yamcha saying anything snide to _her…_

"Alright, son." Vegeta announced, turning back for the boy. "Come inside. You need to have a bath before our guests arrive."

"Will they be fun?" The lavender-haired boy asked, jogging after his father and running through the door into the house. "Will they train, too?"

"Hmm.." The saiyan smirked. Trunks was still so young, and yet he seemed more enthusiastic about the idea of sparring each day. "You still have a lot to learn, boy. But perhaps someone will train with you, we'll see."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little on the shorter side, but I decided to end it here because it was a good stopping point.  
> I'm missing some good one-on-one B/V scenes. I promise we'll get more of those soon! Thanks again for reading!


	44. Revenge

If the thought of his home being invaded wasn't enough to put a bad taste in Vegeta's mouth, the peaceful quiet leading up to the visit certainly did it. With Trunks fast asleep after his bath, Chi-Chi and her baby asleep in their room, and Gohan locked away as he studied, the house was blissfully silent and only seemed to emphasize how loud things would soon be. It was only be a matter of time before the guests arrived and everything went to chaos.

Vegeta stood in the hallway, with his back reclined against the wall. He was waiting patiently for his woman to step out of Trunks' room after setting the child down for his nap. When her figure appeared in the hall and the two locked eyes, she smiled.

The saiyan pushed himself from the wall and began to walk towards her. "Wo-" Vegeta paused. He had known her for about four years by now. And, while he'd always known that her name was Bulma, he'd always called her _Woman_. What had started as a way of teasing had quickly become the way he addressed her. And now, after calling her _his woman_ for so long, it felt more natural on his tongue than using her real name. But he was trying. Because that was what she wanted. This wouldn't be the first time that he corrected himself mid-word, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last... "Bulma. Come with me." He said, gesturing his head towards their bedroom. "There is something we need to discuss."

She did not say anything back, but she gave him a nod and followed the saiyan into the room they shared. Ever since the Bluehead had started helping Chi-Chi, things had been relentlessly busy. The alone time she spent with Vegeta had been short and sporadic. It was typical that they didn't have much privacy together until late at night before going to sleep, or early in the morning before getting out of bed. She understood that it was rare to get a word with him at any other time in the day, and so she did not feel suspicious or curious that he was requesting one now.

Alone in their room, after the saiyan had shut the door, he turned and gave her a stern look. She returned the gaze, eyes locked with his, as she waited to hear what this was about.

Slowly, and almost hesitantly, Vegeta took a small step towards her.

Then, after a few seconds, he took another.

Finally, after what felt like minutes or quiet eying and wordless communication, he was wrapping his large arms around her waist and steering her towards the bed.

Bulma didn't object, and was instead rather pleased when she felt her body sinking into the mattress, the saiyan crawling on top of her. "You have no idea how tired I am." She breathed, her eyelids instantaneously heavy. "I really don't know if I can manage a quickie right now."

" _Quickie?_ " Vegeta furrowed his eyebrows. "What is a…? _Oh_. You must be speaking about rushed pleasure. No, that wasn't my objective in this encounter." With that he brushed a loose strand of blue hair out of Bulma's eyes, taking note of just how exhausted she looked. His woman hadn't been exaggerating about her fatigue.

"Do you think I have time to take a nap before they get here?" Bulma asked, closing her eyes.

"I'd say so. The closest one is still about 40 minutes away, at their current rate."

"Good..."

She seemed as if she was already falling asleep, and Vegeta was inclined to let her. But he wanted one thing first, so he gave her a slight nudge to keep her awake. "Bulma. First, I need you to tell me something."

"Hm...?" She opened her eyes.

"Are you comfortable with what is going to happen today?" Vegeta asked, staring into the Bluehead's eyes for any sign of adverse reaction. Bulma watched him back. "It's always great to see everybody." She breathed. "But, honestly, I'm just so _tired._ I know Chi-Chi's going to leave with her father after all of this, but I just wish it would all be over so I can get some decent rest."

"I concur." He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Our time will soon come, Woman. But I want to know your exact comfort level with the people who are going to be here." He moved his hand down to her shoulder, his fingers running across the arch of her neck as he went. "Is there anybody you don't want to face?"

Bulma closed her eyes at the feel of Vegeta's hands, smiling softly. With everything that had been going on, these close encounters between them were cherished. "I'm fine with seeing everyone." She replied, placing her hand over Vegeta's.

"Even _him?_ " The saiyan hissed.

"Yes." The Bluehead said, opening her eyes. "Even Yamcha."

He moved his palm up to cup her face now, leaning in as he continued to stare into those blue gem-like eyes. "You are certain?"

"Yes, Vegeta. He's an idiot – but he isn't dangerous."

"Yes, you've said that... but still. I must know before they get here if you are absolutely comfortable with this. I won't have you exposing yourself to anyone that makes you feel ill."

"I promise." Bulma sighed. It seemed that she was starting to speak in auto-pilot mode, her mind already distracted by hazy visions of dreams as she honestly answered everything Vegeta said. "He is harmless. He may be a doofus, but he's fine. _I'm fine."_

"You may vouch for him, but just know that if he says something inappropriate, it won't be tolerated." The saiyan raised an eyebrow as his woman closed her eyes once again.

"Hm..." Bulma said back, turning her head slightly. It was clear that she was going to be out for a while. Vegeta smirked, watching her face as his features softened, and she began to silently doze. Now the entire house was asleep, except for him. And, while he wasn't exactly sure of what to expect once the guests arrived, he was all too aware that he needed to enjoy this silence while it lasted.

.

"Hello Bulma!" The ox-king said when a groggy Bluehead answered the door. Vegeta had woken her with only 10 minutes notice, telling her that someone he didn't recognize was approaching. She'd hardly even had time to get her hair brushed before the doorbell rang, resulting in angry yells coming from Trunks' room, and high pitched wails that erupted from Chi-Chi's baby.

"Hello." Bulma said back, trying to raise her voice enough that it was heard over the screaming infant in the background.

"Oh, is that the new one?!" The ox-king replied, barging in through the door without another thought. Bulma has to jump to steer out of his way, the giant ogre of a man nearly knocking the door off its hinges as he went.

Vegeta, who had been standing in the background and watching the exchange, let out an audible growl at seeing his woman nearly getting trampled.

"Oh, Vegeta!" Bulma breathed, straightening her shirt as she recomposed herself. She turned so that she could introduce the Ox-King to the saiyan, but he had already disappeared deeper into the house without paying the two any more notice.

Vegeta's eyes did not leave Bulma's, as they listened to the ox-king's heavy footstomps following the sounds of the baby's cries. Soon enough, he had disappeared into Chi-Chi's room. Finally, when they heard the Ox-King erupt into a delighted greeting with his daughter, Vegeta cleared his throat. "What was _that!_?"

"Oh, that was just... Chi-Chi's dad." The Bluehead cringed as she heard the people in the other room squealing together.

"I thought you said everyone would be fine." The saiyan scowled.

"He _is_ fine! The ox-king is huge, but he's more gentle than -"

" _He_ nearly ran you over!" Vegeta growled. "In our _own_ home!"

"Oh, it's alright!" Bulma, who was still catching her breath, shrugged. "He's just very excitable. He didn't mean anything by it."

"Hm." The saiyan shook his head. He began to mutter something about the audacity of humans and their disrespectful attitudes, but before he had a chance to finish his point there was another knock at the door.

"Hey, Vegeta?" Bulma smiled. "I left some food in the 'fridge for you."

"Good to know." Vegeta grunted, his feet not budging from the tile he stood on.

"Why don't you go eat?" The Bluehead continued, trying to keep her voice chipper despite how overwhelmed she was quickly becoming.

"Not yet." He growled.

"Please!" Bulma finally barked. "Vegeta – please! I mean it, I'm fine. Go eat. I'll greet our guests. I'll call for you if anything happens."

"I don't trust any of them." He grumbled as he obviously struggled between staying or going. The idea of eating really _was_ a pleasant thought, but he didn't want to leave his Woman alone. Yet, he could tell she _wanted_ him to go… Finally he sighed, shaking his head and heading for the dining room. "I'm only doing this because of your insistence." He muttered as he left.

"Love you!" Bulma called tiredly, and Vegeta responded by grunting something incoherent before the knocking at the door repeated.

Now, instead of Ox-King, it was none other than Krillin at the door. "Hey, Bulma." He said shyly, feeling awkward as he carefully stepped inside. He was fully aware that he was walking into a building that Vegeta resided in, and he had heard the couple's exchange of words before she'd opened the door. "Long time no see."

"Hey, Krillin! How are you?" Bulma smiled, waving her hands to gesture where Chi-Chi could be found. "Where is everyone else?"

"Well," Krillin licked his lips dryly, still feeling uncomfortable as he stepped deeper into the house and looked around to see where Vegeta was. "Yamcha went to get Master Roshi so they could come together. I spoke to Tien earlier, and he asked me to pass his regards, but he isn't coming."

"I see." She nodded. "Well, I can't say I blame him. It is a pretty long trip, after all. Honestly, I'm surprised that even Master Roshi wants to travel."

"Oh, he seemed pretty excited to catch up with everyone." Krillin replied. "He seemed _really_ excited to see you, too, Bulma!"

"He did?" The Bluehead's eyes lit up. "Aww! What a sweet little man he is!"

"Right." Krillin said sarcastically, fighting the urge to shake his head. "Anyways, I guess I'll go say hi to Chi-Chi and the new twerp!"

.

Vegeta didn't realize until he began eating just how hungry he'd been. It was good of the Woman to suggest he stuff his face, for it distracted him from the angst he was struggling with at the prospect of everyone showing up. And, as he gulped down his fourth plate of food, he hardly cared at all about the violation of his sacred home.

When he heard someone else at the door, though, his focus on the meal had completely deteriorated. He recognized Yamcha's excruciating voice before he'd even thought to identify his ki, the saiyan growling as he listened to the Z-Fighter greeting Bulma.

He could hear Yamcha and Master Roshi babbling in the foyer, and Vegeta pushed himself up from the table with a grunt. His encounters with Master Roshi hadn't been anything for the saiyan to pay mind to, but he'd heard a few stories from Bulma's past to put him on edge. Apparently Master Roshi was someone that she considered to be "like family", and yet the man was no stranger to crossing inappropriate boundaries with the Bluehead…

"I promise, I'm doing well!" Bulma was saying when Vegeta walked into the foyer. He stared as the Bluehead took a step back towards the doorway into the house. She turned, and when her eyes settled on the saiyan as he stood before her, she smiled.

His eyes, piercing her own, seemed to return the gesture without his facial expression changing.

The encounter was awkward, with Vegeta glaring silently as Master Roshi attempted to exchange pleasantries with him. Yamcha didn't even bother with such an act, returning the scowl that the saiyan was sporting as he brushed past. The saiyan turned as he watched the three advance into the house, Bulma cheerfully offering small talk as she lead them towards Chi-Chi's room. The two men disappeared inside, with the Bluehead lingering in the hall and shutting the door behind them. She didn't think she needed to join in with them as they met Goku's last born son, having already seen the baby multiple times that day.

She turned to glance down the hall towards the saiyan, who was already making his way towards her as she pressed her back against the door. When they were standing just a few breaths apart, he gave her a nod, and they both began to move towards the den.

"What were you saying to _that man_ before I walked over?" He asked, trying to keep his voice sounding nonchalant.

"Nothing important." Bulma scowled. "He was asking how I was doing. As if _I'm_ the one who just gave birth."

"He's an idiot." The saiyan rolled his eyes.

"At least he wasn't being rude." The Bluehead grinned.

With nothing more to say while the house was still filled with guests, the couple each took a seat beside each other on the couch. Bulma was resting against Vegeta's form as they waited for everyone to step out of Chi-Chi's room. The saiyan was calmly dragging a hand across her back, tracing up and down as she snuggled into his side. It seemed that she was almost falling asleep on him, for she was incredibly still and her weight was becoming more limp with each passing moment.

It was true, the Bluehead found his hand to be rather soothing. Perhaps she really might have fallen asleep - if he hadn't suddenly retracted his touch and sat up straighter. Bulma looked up to see hear that Chi-Chi's doorknob was starting the jiggle, so she scooted away from Vegeta and used the palm of her hand to smooth down the wrinkles in her shirt.

"The runt looks like his pop!" Yamcha was announcing as he made his way towards the den.

Upon hearing his voice, Vegeta was already eliciting a low growl from the back of his throat before the Z-Fighter had even shown his face. And as he came strutting into the room, babbling about babies and smelly diapers, he quickly stopped in his path when his eyes fell on the two. Looking from Bulma to Vegeta, Yamcha's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed down a lump.

With Yamcha's carefree voice no longer filling the room, a silence had fallen instead. Bulma shifted in her seat, growing uncomfortable with the awkward tension that was searing through the air.

"B." Yamcha said.

"Her name is Bulma." Vegeta growled before she had a chance to reply.

"I always call her B!" The Z Fighter snapped.

The Bluehead rolled her eyes.

From the other room, the sounds of Master Roshi and Krillin's voices were growing louder, as if they would come walking out at any moment. Yamcha took this as initiative to try again. "Hey, B." He said, moving closer to her. "Do you mind stepping outside with me for a sec? There's something I wanna talk to you about."

"You're joking!" Vegeta hissed. "You? Taking my woman to private quarters for a _chat?_ You have the nerve to ask such a thing right in front of me?!"

"As if I would wanna say anything to her in front of _you!_ " Yamcha retorted, looking to the Bluehead for support. She seemed to be in agreement with the saiyan, for her face was screwed into an unpleasant expression. "I don't see what you would need to talk to me about that would need privacy."

"Come on!" Yamcha replied, feeling like a cornered animal now. "I'm not planning anything weird! As if I would even want anything like that with you, anyway!"

"You are so-" The saiyan began, but he was cut off.

"Hey!" Bulma jumped from the couch. "I'm a prize compared to all of the hussies you messed around with behind my back! How dare you say that to me, you! You!"

"You idiot!" Vegeta finished.

Yamcha let out a deep sigh, turning away as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It had only been a few seconds, and already this was all going so terribly wrong. "I didn't mean it like that..." He muttered. "Look, I wanted to ask you something, and I was trying to be nice about it. Krillin and Roshi are going to be out here any minute. Now would you _please_ step outside with me so I can talk to you about something?"

Letting out a sigh, Bulma shrugged. "Okay, okay. But let's make it quick."

Feeling vexed, Vegeta watched the two step towards the back door. There was no way in **hell** that he would leave her alone with that fiend - not under his watch. Yamcha was an idiot, and he wasn't physically capable of very much. But Vegeta had been witness to the aftermath of his and Bulma's private conversations enough to know that they always seemed to end with her in tears. The saiyan didn't know what it was that the Z Fighter would do to her to always put her in such a state, but as far as he was concerned those days were no more. On edge, Vegeta quickly jumped to his feet and trailed behind the two, slipping into the backyard just a few seconds after they had disappeared.

"I don't want to talk about it." Bulma was saying when the saiyan stepped outside. She had her back against the side of the house, running a hand through her hair as Yamcha stood in front of her. The Z Fighter turned to see Vegeta and scowled.

"He's just asking me about the magazine articles." Bulma announced with irritation, rolling her eyes as she looked up at her mate.

"As if that's any of his business." Vegeta growled back.

"Yeah, go ahead and talk about me as if I'm not standing right here." Yamcha scoffed. "I know something's up. I saw the pictures of her face. And I don't know why the media suddenly became _"Team Vegeta_ " just because he kissed you in front of the cameras, but I'm not buying it."

"That was a private matter!" Vegeta snarled, his neck growing hot to be reminded that he'd done such a thing in his drunken state. He'd almost forgotten about how foolish he'd acted when he and his woman had gone into the city!

"In case you haven't noticed, _I'm_ also Team Vegeta!" Bulma huffed, putting a hand on her hip. "And I don't think any of this if your business!"

"It _is_ when you're my ex, and I'm just trying to show concern for your well-being!" Yamcha replied.

"Get away from her." Vegeta stepped in. "She already told you no. Stop pressing."

"Hey, man! Back off!" Yamcha yelled back. "If she tells me you did anything to harm her, I swear-!"

Bulma sighed as Vegeta yelled something back at the Z-FIghter. "Guys, we have guests inside." She said, but her words went unnoticed as the shouting match rapidly escalated. The two men were now at each others' throats, yelling threats and insults as quickly as their lips would let them. "Guys…" She tried again, but her words were still being ignored.

A vein was starting to protrude from Vegeta's forhead now, his eyes starting to twitch as both men continued to scream.

" _ **GUYS!**_ " Bulma yelled. The two men in front of her froze, turning to the Bluehead as she threw her hands up in the air. "You wanna know what happened to me!? You _really_ want to know!?"

"Woman," Vegeta began. "Don't-"

"I was attacked, okay?! I was trying to get business done in the city, and it got late! Some horrible man attacked me and Trunks! He tried to kidnap me! He hurt me! He tried to beat me up! He told me he was going to take me to his home and rape me, hold me hostage, demand money, and then sell me on the black market even after my family gave him what he asked! I tried to defend myself, but I couldn't do it without Trunks getting hurt! Okay?!" She took in a deep breath, her pale cheeks turning red as her heart began to pound. "Vegeta's the one who came for me! _He's_ the one that rescued me and Trunks! I'm tired of listening to you accuse him of this! He would _never_ do anything to me! You don't know ANYTHING! So just shut up! _**SHUT UP!**_ "

"What?" Yamcha blinked, too stunned to even breathe. "Oh my gosh... Bulma..."

Vegeta didn't even grant the Z-Fighter with the time he was needed to process everything that the Bluehead had just said. He launched at Yamcha, landing a firm fist in the side of his jaw. "You swine!" He barked, shooting another fist into the other side of the scarface's head before elbowing him in the gut. "She told you she didn't want to say what happened, but you _just_ wouldn't drop it!"

It was so fast that it was over by the time Bulma recognized what had happened. By the time she realized that Vegeta had just punched out her ex-boyfriend, the saiyan was already standing protectively by her side, his arms folded across his chest. Yamcha was nearly doubled over as he furiously rubbed the forming bruises on his face. "Hey!" He was gasping. "How - _how was I supposed to know?!"_

"Oh, I can't believe I even told you!" Bulma hissed, tears welling in her eyes. "My - my _parents_ don't even know the story in true detail! You!" She snapped. "You! You...! Ugh, _**I CAN'T STAND YOU!**_ " She turned and stormed into the house before she had the chance to burst into tears, leaving the two men standing alone as they watched each other.

His arms still crossed, the saiyan glared at the man in front of him as he listened to Bulma's hurried footsteps rushing for the stairs. "I ought to beat you half to death." He growled. "I knew your presence would only cause trouble, and now she is reliving everything because of your prying."

"I wouldn't have asked if I had known!" Yamcha snapped, but his angry demeanor was softening. He suddenly was feeling like a jerk. She really hadn't wanted to tell him, and what had happened was just too much to comprehend. He'd never imagined, in all of his years, that he would hear of such a thing happening to _Bulma…_ "Geez, that's terrible! But... what happened? Why was everyone saying you did it?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to hold back on answering. The scarface already knew the worst of what had occurred, and the saiyan had kept quiet about the beta male for long enough. The situation with Tadashi had been bottled in for so long that it exhilarating to finally let it all out. And, as he ranted so angrily that his mouth was nearly foaming, the saiyan was at least glad to see Yamcha's face twisting with his own rage.

"What a little twerp!" The Z Fighter exclaimed after Vegeta finished his spiel. "Bulma - she's too caring, man! It does sound just like her to turn a blind eye to that little punk. If there's anything I know about that girl, it's that she's too trusting."

"You don't say..." The saiyan grumbled.

"Man, I still can't believe that guy in the alley got her so bad. She's so smart but she's still pretty naive... But that girl can pack a punch when she has to! Hey – I bet she probably would've knocked Tadashi out if he'd ever put a finger on her! I kind of wish he had – she would've destroyed him! He deserves it for going to the press!"

"Hmm." Vegeta grumbled, trying not to smirk at the thought of Bulma kicking some ass. Truth be told, in the past the woman had slapped him a couple of times during the worst of their fights, but he hadn't really seen much of her physically combative side other than that. Especially not as an observer… Not when he was getting to _watch._

Evidently Yamcha had. Vegeta was both intrigued to know what he'd seen, and envious that _he'd_ been the one to witness it. In that moment, despite his hostile temper, the saiyan suddenly desired nothing more than to sit back on his living room couch and watch his woman engaging in beating someone to a bloody pulp as they begged for mercy against her wrath...

' _Wow'_ , Vegeta thought, picturing the Bluehead landing a strategic knee into someone's ribs as they yelped in pain… He hadn't realized that Bulma could get any more attractive in his mind, but suddenly his fantasies were running wild.

"Well, what'd you do to the kid?" Yamcha asked, snapping the saiyan from his idealistic thoughts. Vegeta's eyes widened, willing the images from his head. He was absolutely horrified to realize that his pants had started to feel a bit tighter as he'd gotten lost in his fantasy, but he made sure not to let his body language show that anything was out of the ordinary. "I didn't do anything to him!" He growled through gritted teeth, counting backwards from 20 in his head as he waited for his lust to dim. "She had her father terminate the boy's employment, and then she wouldn't let me do anything more! It's ludicrous!"

"Yeah, that also sounds like her..." Yamcha groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "This is ridiculous. She was already going through hard times, and he made it way worse by putting it in the spotlight. I mean, you're mad at me for asking her what happened, but I wouldn't have even known anything was up if that kid hadn't gone squealing to the press!"

"I concur." Vegeta grunted, furrowing his brows.

"Well, I don't care what Bulma wants. I say you and I go teach that kid a lesson!" Yamcha exclaimed, cracking his knuckles eagerly.

The heat in his lower body had started to dissolve, but Vegeta suddenly felt his heart starting to pound in another way. He shot the scar-face a mischievous grin, chuckling from the back of his throat. "I never thought you would propose something that would make so much sense..."

"Don't insult me, man. So, you're in?"

"Of course I am! And I've been thinking about paying the beta male a visit, anyway. I don't _need_ your assistance."

"Look, I know you don't think it's my business and all, but Bulma is a great girl. She didn't deserve this. I want to get some revenge, too!"

The saiyan paused, staring at the serious expression on the Z-Fighter's face as they watched each other. This man was pathetic! He was one of the most irritating creatures the saiyan had ever come across, and yet he couldn't help but feel some sense of respect in knowing that Yamcha wanted to seek retribution in Bulma's honor. And, truth be told, he had handled getting knocked in the face pretty well. "Oh! Alright!" Vegeta finally snapped. " _We_ shall go – but stay out of my way, or I'll destroy you before I get to that beta male. We must head out soon – we need to take advance of the fact that Bulma is still distracted by our visitors." The saiyan grabbed the doorknob, holding it open for Yamcha to walk through. "But first, I want to shower."

"Shower?" The scarface's eyes widened. "Seriously!? _Now!?_ You didn't do that _before_ everyone showed up?"

"Does it look like I had time?" Vegeta growled. That was all he would say. Yamcha didn't need to know that the prince of the saiyans would need to take a cold shower after picturing his woman the way he had been a few minutes earlier...

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. I think that might have been a bit unexpected at the end!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this update. :)


	45. Trunks and the Baby

Trunks was sitting in his crib, glaring at the bars surrounding him as he waited for someone to set him free. It seemed that he had cried and yelled for days after waking from his nap, but his mommy never came to rescue him from this claustrophobic cage. In fact, Trunks was pretty certain that he could hear his mother downstairs, in what sounded like a lot of animated conversation with a handful of voices that he couldn't recognize.

He'd long ago given up on yelling his protests. It was clear that his mom couldn't even hear his screams. Had she forgotten about him? Feeling dejected, the lavender toddler fell back in his crib and scowled at the bars in front of him. He crossed his little arms, the way his Dad always did, and he stuck his bottom lip out in a grumpy pout.

After what felt like _days_ , Trunks realized that he could hear heavy footsteps trailing down the hall. The sound was growing louder as the feet were approaching his door, and the toddler could tell by the confidence in that stride that it was his Dad. He couldn't comprehend how it was that he assumed such a thing, but something inside just told him that he _knew,_ and he didn't second guess it.

But his door was closed! Trunks quickly became worried that his Daddy would walk right past his room, and not even know he was waiting inside. Hit with a sudden urgency, the toddler jumped from his sitting position and grabbed the bars in front of him, giving them a firm shake as he screamed "DAAA!"

The next thing Trunks registered was an enormous crackling sound that rattled under his own fingers, growing louder as the seconds went by. Suddenly the bars collapsed under his grip, and the groggy child went tumbling head-first into the ground. Trunks lay with wide eyes, his body covered in wooden debris from his destroyed crib, and he considered what had just happened to him.

He was free! He was no longer confined to the walls of that infernal cage!

... But then, what had just happened? It had been so rude of that crib so just _throw_ him like that! He was laying on the floor after having just dropped from so high, and it wasn't by his own doing – it was that crib's fault!

That crib was _MEAN!_

"WAHHHHH!" Trunks crowed, grabbing one of the wooden bars off his leg and snapping it in half before tossing it.

The bedroom door immediately flew open, and there stood Vegeta, looking as if a fire had just erupted. Ready to divert a disaster, the on-edge father scanned the room before he spotted his crying son on the floor below the crib. The saiyan's lungs exhaled a deep sigh as his alert concern dissipated into tolerant irritation. He stepped up to the howling toddler and looked down at him, Trunks breaking another one of the wooden bars as he screamed. "Son, that is enough."

"Bad! _BAD!"_ Trunks lectured, kicking at the pile of wooden shreds he had created in his tantrum.

"I said, that is **enough**." Vegeta repeated, this time with more warning in his tone. It was then that Trunks seemed to realize his father was there for the first time, and he looked up at him with determination in his eyes. He glared at his Dad, as if to say _'can't you see I'm pissed off, here?!'_

"You have broken your infantile bed." Vegeta said. "We shall replace it with a more fitting piece of furniture. Now, stop making an even bigger mess, and cease with your screaming."

"It hurt me!" Trunks' screams had faded into sniffles, and he scowled as he pointed a pudgy finger at the remnants of his crib.

"It did _not_ hurt you. You have the blood of saiyan royalty in you." Vegeta said.

"It _tried_ to hurt me!" Trunks rephrased.

"No, it did not. Son, you are speaking of a bed. It has no conscious thought. Now stop it." Vegeta began to raise his ki, by way of subtly warning the boy that he was being serious. "Had you been born in another dimension, you would have been prince of an entire species. No prince that I heir will lose grip over inanimate objects. Now stop crying and stand up."

Trunks, his chin wrinkled with indignance, wiped the remaining tears from his eyes. He pulled himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as he caught his balance. With one last look at the tattered crib, he gave one of the loose pieces of wood a kick. The bar popped into a cloud of splinters, silently settling over the carpet.

Above him Vegeta let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Your mother doesn't need to be cleaning up your messes right now, son."

But Trunks didn't care. He let out a delighted sigh, as if kicking the remnants of his crib had been _exactly_ what he'd needed in that moment.

Vegeta groaned again. All the saiyan had wanted to do was take a quick shower before leaving with Yamcha, while Bulma was still too distracted to notice. He could see that wasn't going to happen now - Trunks had made sure of that. _'Oh well.'_ He thought bitterly, nudging his son in the back. Trunks' temper tantrum had been enough of a distraction to take the saiyan prince's mind off his own dirty thoughts, and he no longer needed an icy shower to cool down, anyway. "Come, son." Vegeta said, prodding the child in the back again. "Let's go downstairs and find your mother."

Down on the first level, Bulma was standing in Chi-Chi's room with the majority of her guests. Yamcha stood out in the den, listening to the chatter going on in the other room and wishing that Vegeta would just hurry up, already. It wasn't that the Z-Fighter had a particular issue with children, but they just made him _uncomfortable_. He had nothing in common with a newborn baby, and he had nothing more to say about them other than they were cute. Giggling over a small child was swell for a few minutes, but then what? This just wasn't his scene, and he had learned that quickly enough when Trunks had been born. Speaking of Trunks, Yamcha, who now stood with his back reclined against the wall, looked up to see Vegeta ushering the tot downstairs.

"Come on son, your mother is down here." Vegeta said once the two reached the landing.

Trunks had cheered up somewhat during the last few minutes, but there was still enough residual grogginess in his system to leave him feeling moody. Why hadn't his Mommy been the one to fetch him after he woke up? She _always_ came in to pull him out of his crib after he announced the end of his nap! But where was she now?

The next thing the toddler knew, his father was opening the door to a bedroom and guiding him inside. This was the same room that loud woman - Gohan's mother - had been staying in. This was the same room that so much commotion had occurred in the day before...

"Oh! Trunks!" A familiar voice said. The lavender haired boy looked up to see a flash of blue approaching, and despite his foul demeanor he couldn't keep the smile from his plump cheeks. "Mommy!"

.

Now that he'd officially escorted his son to his Woman, Vegeta retreated back into the hall without a sound. Bulma hadn't even glanced his way when he'd opened the door to the room - her attention had been locked on the boy.

Strolling into the den, Vegeta and Yamcha eyes' locked immediately upon him entering the room. Without even speaking to one another they both nodded, and wordlessly they began to head for the front door. This didn't go without Vegeta walking past the couch, though. And as he did he looked down to see an injured looking old man who was hunched over.

Master Roshi was sitting, bending over his knees, as he muttered indistinguishable words to himself. He looked worse for wear in that moment, and Vegeta couldn't help but think this would have been a good time to have a regeneration tank handy. The old man certainly could have used one. "What's wrong with you?" He grunted.

Master Roshi looked up from his lap to reveal a swollen left eye and a bruised lip. "Oh? Heh-heh, nothing's wrong! Just another day in the park for me!"

"You look like death came to your doorstep for a visit, and you lost the fight." The saiyan bluntly replied.

"What? No, no! Of course not!" Master Roshi laughed nervously. "I just had a little conversation with Bulma, that's all..."

" _Bulma?"_ Vegeta gulped, looking up towards Yamcha and raising an eyebrow.

The Z-Fighter had been standing in the entryway of the room, and he was now shaking his head. "You tried to grab her again, didn't you?"

_Grab?_

The saiyan whipped back around to eye the elderly man that was currently reclining on his own couch. Sure enough, Master Roshi's expression conveyed all the guilt that he wouldn't utter. "You?!" Vegeta hissed.

"Now now, let's not get too upset!" Master Roshi replied, laughing with feigned innocence as he held a wrinkly hand in the air. "I just... I just wanted to compliment her, that's all. I was only admiring her-"

"Shut up!" Vegeta snapped. He looked furious, grinding his teeth together as he glared at the man in front of him. He was examining the bruises, and Master Roshi's pained face. It almost appeared that the old man wouldn't even be able to stand for awhile, with how pathetically injured he seemed to be. What a confident pervert this guy was - he must have committed the attempted groping in the bedroom! Probably while Bulma was distracted with the Kakarot's infant son.

Imagine the gall to do such a thing - and in front of everyone, too! These wounds looked rather fresh - it was clear that Vegeta had _just_ narrowly missed it! If he had only been a few moments earlier in arriving with Trunks, he surely would have walked in on the offending assault…

"Good God!" The saiyan finally barked, making both Yamcha and Roshi jump. "Is _everyone_ going to get to see her kick some ass, except _me?!"_

Yamcha had started rushing to the men in case he needed to defend Master Roshi from the saiyan's wrath, but hearing Vegeta's rant made him stop in his tracks. "What?"

"Nothing!" Vegeta snapped, turning away to hide his face. Bulma had taken care of Master Roshi, herself. There was no point in pounding him now. He decided to let it go, but that didn't help with the trembling sensation of lost-opportunity that was welling in his gut as having missed Bulma's show of hands. "Come on, scarry. Let's jut get out of here."

"Scarry?"

"Scar-face... Bigmouth. Dim-wit. Scarry? Well, any nickname will do, really. Take your pick."

"Just... call me Yamcha." The Z-Fighter shook his head as they resumed their journey for the front door. "You sure know how to get on someone's good side, don't you?"

"Whatever." Vegeta sighed, the door clicking shut behind them as they stepped into the daylight.

"My, my…" Master Roshi muttered from where he sat on the couch. He had to cringe as he spoke. He'd accidentally bitten the inside of his cheek when Bulma had slapped him, and now it throbbed each time he moved his lips. "I wonder what those two are off to do..."

.

It must have been about 5 in the afternoon when the two rivals stepped outside the Vegeta household. The disgruntled saiyan looked up at the sky, thinking that it would still be a couple more hours before nightfall.

"So." Yancha smacked his lips when he broke the silence, trying to cut through the consequential awkwardness that came after Vegeta's show of emotion in the den. "What's the plan, then?"

"First, we will get away from this house before the Woman has the chance to find us and ask what we are up to." Vegeta replied bluntly. "Second, you will take me to a refutable source of food."

"Food?!" Yamcha nearly fell back, grumbling as he fought to keep his balance and avoid causing a commotion by slamming into the front door. "First you make me wait while you shower, and now you want food?! What the hell, man!"

"Keep your voice down, fool!" Vegeta hissed. "We must wait until night before we strike the beta male. I was having a sufficient meal for the first time in days, when it was rudely interrupted by you and your companions' arrival!"

"You and Goku really _were_ from the same planet." Yamcha muttered, shaking his head. Fine, I'll take you to my favorite place. Follow me."

And, with that, the two men took off into the sky and made for a direct path towards the city centre.

.

"How'd you get all the way down here, big guy?" Bulma cooed to her son, who was now comfortably nestled in her loving arms.

"Daddy got me." Trunks replied. "My bed hit me, and Daddy got me."

His father hadn't seemed to care at all about that traitorous crib, but the toddler had expected that. His Daddy was always telling him to calm down, no matter how rude something had been to him. Likewise, Trunks had known that his Mom would be far more sympathetic to his grievances, and he'd looked forward to receiving a wet kiss on the cheek followed by a cheerful word of encouragement. It came to his surprise, then, when his story about the evil crib seemed to fall upon deaf ears.

As it turned out, his Mommy didn't acknowledge his hardship at all. "Oh? Daddy brought you down here?" She smiled. "My poor boy! I meant to go get you myself, but I guess I must have forgotten to!"

…Forgot?

_FORGOT?_

Mommy _never_ forgot!

Trunks' mouth fell open as his whole world seemed to come tumbling down at that very moment. Things had been so strange lately. First, his mother had first started spending entire days away from home, leaving in the early hours of the day and not returning until late at night. Then, when that finally ended and she was back to staying at the house, she was so busy taking care of other people that she hardly seemed to notice little Trunks at all!

The toddler felt a lump of self-pity welling in his throat.

He'd heard so much hearsay about Gohan's mom - that blackhaired woman that screamed a _lot_. There had been so many discussions of her, and from _everyone_ else, about a baby. About how the infant – the _baby_ \- was making her sick, about how the baby meant that Trunks' own Mom had to spend all her time paying attention to _other people_ instead of himself. It had been a nice trade-off, for in Bulma's absence Gohan had started to come for visits and train. But now he had even lost Gohan. His best friend would be spending less time with him from now on, and all because he needed to tend to the _baby_.

Baby, baby, baby!

Trunks wasn't even completely sure what a baby was, but all he did know was that it was slowly taking his loved ones away from him. Why, his _own_ mother had forgotten to pick him up from his crib! She never did that!

"Oh, the baby's awake." Bulma said now, bouncing her own son in her arms without any knowledge of the current turmoil going on in his mind. "Would you like to meet him, Trunksie?"

Trunks wrinkled his face and groaned, an act that he thought would surely scream _'NO!'_ , but once again it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Because, instead of realizing just how upset he was in that moment, Bulma simply cooed and began to carry him towards Gohan's mom.

"Get a look, Trunks..." She was saying now, her voice softening as a smile laced her lips. This was a moment that the Bluehead hadn't even realized she'd been waiting for - when her very own bundle of joy was going to come face-to-face with that of her best friend's. These two children - so close in age, and the second generation of one of the strongest friendships that Bulma had ever known - were now going to meet for the very first time... She could only imagine how beautiful this would be.

' _Oh,'_ The Bluehead thought, feeling surprisingly emotional as she leaned over Chi-Chi and lowered the toddler in her arms so he could get a better view. Chi-Chi, who looked as if she were experiencing similar thoughts, stifled a sob as she pulled the blanket back from her infant's face.

Bulma could almost feel as her son's eyes fell on the baby's, and without realizing it she was holding her breath in anticipation for what he might say.

… But no words came from his mouth.

After a few moments of silence, during which is seemed that _everyone_ in the room was waiting in anticipation, Bulma finally spoke. "Well, Trunks? Here he is..."

Trunks squeezed his mother's arm, squinting his blue eyes as he studied the object in front of him. This? _This?_ _**This**_ was the cause of everyone's absence? This was what had made Gohan stop training with him, what had made the loud houseguest so unruly, had caused so much worry and chaos, and what had made his own mother forgot to retrieve him after his nap?

THIS?!

"... Baby?" Trunks asked, trying to confirm his observation. Why, this was what everyone had been making such a fuss about? This baby looked like another person! Sure - a small, wrinkly, discolored person. But it was still a person, nevertheless. Why had everyone been referring to it as the _baby_?

"Yes, Trunks... This is the baby..." Bulma breathed, smiling as she gave her son a squeeze. "So? What do you think, sweetie?"

What did _he_ think? She had the nerve to even ask?! Trunks' face soured, his eyelids starting to droop. He was starting to wonder if this _baby_ had cast some type of spell on everybody in the house, because he didn't understand any other way that all of these adults could be so blind!

"I think..." Trunks trailed, wishing his father was in the room with him. _Daddy_ seemed to be the only person that hadn't been caught by this baby's spell. His father hadn't started acting differently in the least, and had even left the room as soon as he'd gotten the chance. "I think... I think… I think I don't like baby!"

"What?" Bulma breathed.

Someone else gasped.

Another person grunted.

And, in the back of the room and tucked in a corner, Krillin had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep his laugh from bursting out loud.

"What – _What_ did you just say?" Bulma asked.

"I don't _like_ baby!" Trunks repeated, feeling even more sour that he was actually having to repeat himself. This _baby_ may have enchanted everyone else in this house, but Trunks was not going to fall for it. Not today! Not any time soon!

"Why, that's not very nice!" Bulma replied, too surprised to quite yet decide how to handle the situation.

"No! I don't like it!" Trunks concluded. It was then that he began to squirm against his mother's grip, trying to get away from her clutches so he could go find some toys to play with instead of staying in this room for a moment longer.

"Hey, Trunks!" Bulma called, but the lavender haired tot was already scurrying out the door. The Bluehead watched him go, blinking silently as she considered what had just happened. "Well... I..."

It was then that a loud whistle came from the corner of the room, and all eyes immediately went to Krillin. Still leaning against the wall, the hairless man pushed himself up right and nodded, his cheeks crinkled as if he were still trying to keep from laughing. "Man, would you get a look at that kid's temper." He said. "Bulma, he takes after you!"

"Really stubborn, yup!" Chi-Chi nodded, and then she put a hand on her friend's arm. "But that's okay, he's just a boy. He'll come around."

"Me?!" Bulma said. " _Really?_ You think he gets that behavior from _me?_ I was just thinking that he's an exact mold of Vegeta..."

.

"I've never had that type of food before." Vegeta was commenting as the two men stepped back onto the busy street in West City. His stomach was heavy and full, which was usually ideal after a meal, but this time he wasn't so sure if the sensation was pleasant or not. The saiyan had his share of different types of cuisine in his past, from all different stretches of the galaxy, but never had he had something quite like what he'd just eaten. This food had dripped with so much condensation, and it had spread over his face as he ate.

Now, in the afterglow of his feast, Vegeta's cheeks felt incredibly greasy and wet. He had a particularly strong urge in that moment to go home and take a shower – and this time, for _real._

"No way - you've never had burgers before?" Yamcha licked his lips happily. "Well, I can't say I'm _too_ surprised. Bulma's the one who's been feeding you, right? She never was a huge fan of burgers… or hot dogs."

"Understandable." Vegeta replied, wrinkling his eyebrows as he considered how droopy and weighed down his stomach felt in that moment. The saiyan wasn't sure what exactly a burger was made out of, but apparently eating forty-five of them wasn't the most agreeable with his digestive organs. He felt like he wouldn't be able to eat again for days!

"You liked them, though?" Yamcha asked - as if Vegeta's opinion actually mattered to him.

"The food was adequate in taste." The saiyan replied, unable to lie. "But the consistency was... _interesting."_

"Yeah, that's what everyone says their first time." The Z-Fighter grinned. "That'll happen after a lifetime of eating rice and dumplings, and that weird stew Bulma's mom always makes. Burgers are different from all that, but listen to me now. They're a godsend, mark my words. You'll be dreaming about them before long. You'll wish that you'll never have to stop eating them – ever."

The saiyan prince cocked an eyebrow, and rather than respond to his rival's disturbing love confession of a food, Vegeta opted to look up at the sky instead. "The sun is finally starting to retreat, but we still must wait." He announced. Sure enough, it was sunset. They had spent longer than he'd realized in that restaurant. But, then again, overwhelming a kitchen with forty-five orders at once could do that. "We can commence with our plan, but let's take our time. The darker it is outside, the more of a scare that Beta male will get once we strike."

"Hm, okay." Yamcha nodded. "Where does he live, anyway?"

"Not far." Vegeta grinned. The beta male's ki was weak, and nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the residents on this puny planet. But he could recognize that filthy aura _anywhere…_

" _Hey there,_ " A silky voice suddenly said, causing Vegeta to grimace. He suddenly felt a nail raking across his forearm, and the saiyan looked up to see a red-headed woman grinning at his face. "Are you from around here?" She breathed, dragging her finger further down his arm.

"Don't touch me!" He instantly barked, pulling his arm back and glaring at the woman with fire. He didn't know who she was, or what made her think to be so bold, but how _dare_ she lay a finger on him! The only woman entitled to such a gesture was Bulma, and she sure as hell looked _way_ better than this girl did – by _far!_

"Hey, take it easy…" Yamcha muttered in the saiyan's direction before clearing his throat. "Hey, cutie…"

The red-head was looking at Vegeta with hurt eyes, her hand placed against her chest as she fought to keep her ego from denting. It had been a long time since she'd been rejected by someone she'd flirted with – and never had it happened to _harshly._ But when Yamcha spoke she looked up, and the smile rose back to her face. "Oh, you're handsome, too…" She grinned.

The saiyan rolled his eyes as the Z-Fighter responded with some well-rehearsed pickup line that sounded as if he'd used it hundreds of times already. _Oh, for Kami's sake..._ Vegeta furrowed his eyebrows as the red-head giggled, pretending to be modest as she hid her mouth behind her hand. What an insulting joke!

The next thing Vegeta knew, Yamcha and the red-head were standing rather close to one another, and he was palming a few strands of hair out of her face while she squealed. It seemed that they'd decided to engage in some type of battle of kiss-assing, each blabbering mindless words of flatter to one another as their faces grew increasingly doofy by the second.

"Yamcha." The saiyan growled, glaring at the side of the woman's head. He'd never forgive her for touching him without consent.

The two continued flirting, despite Vegeta's obvious temper. "Yamcha…" He repeated, a vein starting to throb in his forehead.

Again, the two ignored him. Now the woman was writing something down on a piece of paper, and she handed it to Yamcha with another shrill giggle.

"HEY!" Vegeta finally snarled. The woman jumped, looking at him in shock. All cheer dropped from her face, and without another word she quickly marched away. "That's right!" The saiyan snapped after her. "Get out of here!"

"I'll call you later!" The Z-Fighter was shouting, grinning smugly as he watched her go. It was then that he turned back to Vegeta, his eyes hardening as he did so. "Hey, man… Easy on the attitude. You were pretty rude to her back there."

" _Rude?!"_ Vegeta snapped. "That woman _touched_ me! Without my permission! She should be grateful I didn't dismember her in honor of my mate!"

"Hey, hey. Calm down! We all know you're with Bulma. I get it." Yamcha was now stuffing the piece of paper that the girl had given him into his pocket. "But there's nothing wrong with being nice to the ladies, you know? Having Bulma doesn't mean you need to be so blunt. You made that girl feel bad."

"Are you mental?" Vegeta growled. What was this man suggesting? That he be kind to other women, simply because his own wasn't around to witness it?

"Whatever." Yamcha rolled his eyes. Clearly this was some kind of cultural thing. "You just aren't accustomed, man. That's how we do things on Earth. There's nothing wrong with being friendly when a babe wants to chat."

"You really are an idiot!" The saiyan spat. "Remind me to bash your head in once we've completed our current mission!"


	46. Retribution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. This chapter was actually set to be published weeks ago, but every time I got ready to hit "post" I would get cold feet and go back to editing. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy the read!

* * *

 

It must have been about 9 in the evening, and the sun had set hours earlier by the time Tadashi made it home from the lab at school. After fumbling with his keys for five minutes too long, he finally managed to find the one that fit into the lock of his apartment door. It had been another endless day for him, as the fidgety ex-intern let himself into his dark home with a sigh.

He'd been through a lot in recent weeks. After being told by Dr. Briefs that his apprenticeship was being terminated due to the _"inappropriate crossing of boundaries_ ", Tadashi had received an angry call from his closest uncle.

Uncle Haruto, who had been a fond colleague of Dr. Briefs during their days in college, had been grooming Tadashi for a career in science since the boy had been in diapers. Therefore, Haruto certainly hadn't been too thrilled to hear that his brightest nephew had lost one of the biggest opportunities of his life due to his inability to keep his eyes off a certain girl.

"You do know that your boss and I considered each other to be brothers in college, right?!" Uncle Haruto had yelled into the phone. "And you were going after his _daughter!_ What do you think that implies about _you!_ Do you even understand how _disgusting_ that is?!"

It had been humiliating, to say the least. And Tadashi had been feeling so scorned and abandoned from the whole situation that he had no qualms at all about going to the local news station. In his point of view, he'd only been trying to help, and if Bulma wanted to handle his generosity like that then perhaps she'd have what was coming to her when the entire world find out...

As the days went by and the story of Bulma's dysfunctional relationship spread, Tadashi hardly felt any guilt. If she wanted to stay with some alpha male brute who treated her like a punching bag, then it wasn't _his_ fault if the general public were going to be alarmed by it. In fact, it was only fair!

Of all the girls Tadashi had admired, Bulma had just been another to add to the list of failed advances, and he was _tired_ of it. Tadashi was _tired_ of being the guy that got stomped on and discarded - simply because of how nice he was! This had happened time and time again during previous pursuits, when the girl he had been eying had chosen to go with some pea-brained muscular oaf instead, and it was becoming frustratingly predictable.

This situation in particular had proven to be no different in the end, but now things were on a much greater scale. Tadashi had been kind to Bulma when he'd seen she was upset. He had bought her a jeweled broach, tried to comfort her, and had even driven her home when she'd been frightfully sick. He had _loved_ her, and what had she done in return? She'd tossed him aside without a care or regard. Bulma had gotten her use of him, and that had been that!

Yet another disappointment had occurred, and Tadashi was getting fed up with it. Why was it that he always finished last?

Now inside his apartment, the ex-intern kicked off his shoes before making his way towards the living room. As he reached the end of the hall he flung his hand at the light switch so he could turn on the lights. He hardly even thought about it as he did so – _flipping a switch was such a mundane task, after all._

…Yet nothing happened.

The room remained dark, and this snapped Tadashi's mind to a more alert irritation. "Are you kidding me?" He grumbled, clicking the switch three more times - just for good measure. "The power's out? But the lights were working out in the lobby!"

Thunder was cracking in the distance - a storm that had been predicted on the news days before. With a tired breath Tadashi dropped his keys and wallet on the spot where he stood, running a hand through his oily blonde locks. He'd had a long day at university, and he'd spent the last four hours looking forward to nothing more than coming home and taking a long shower.

Letting out a deep sigh of self-pity, the ex-intern turned so he could go dig a flashlight out from the linen closet. Halfway across the living room, though, he came into contact with something… Something that was large…

… And _firm._

"Wha?!" He wailed, but he was already being knocked back. Unable to keep his balance, he stumbled off into the nearby couch. Tadashi landed in the cushion with an _"oomf!"_ before he looked up to assess what he had just bumped into, already gasping for air.

But in the darkness it was impossible to see a thing, other than the vague outline of a man. Tadashi's eyes were gradually adjusting to the lack of light in the room, and he was able to make out the figure with a _little_ bit of clarity, but it was still unrecognizable regardless.

In the apartment was utter silence, other than the thunder that was crackling outside Tadashi's window. The ominous figure standing above him wasn't speaking, let alone moving, and Tadashi felt his teeth starting to chatter as a shadow of dread washed over his spine.

Then, as he watched, the room lit up with a flash.

It was such a bright pop of light that the ex-intern felt as if he might go blind… He _may_ have also let out a shrill scream from the shock of it. Peeking out through the slits of his fingers, Tadashi gazed at the large man standing in his living room, and this time he was able to see him perfectly.

_Muscle._

The intruder was _made_ of muscle - from his head to his toes - and around his body was a halo of fire that made the ex-intern go pale in the face. If he wasn't so terrified at what was happening to him, he might have been concerned that embers in his carpet might have resulted in him losing his security deposit.

The man looked almost identical to the one Bulma had been living with, but this guy had a few strikingly different features that had Tadashi rubbing his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly. Unlike Bulma's jerk of a boyfriend, _this_ guy had cyan eyes... and he was _blonde_!

"What - what is this?!" Tadashi yelped, grabbing the nearest thing he could - a decorative throw pillow - and slung it at his intruder with all of his might.

The man simply stared at the pillow, watching as it softly clapped him on the shin before limply falling to the ground. He made a face as if he were trying not to lose his patience, but the glowing stranger still didn't say anything. Instead he looked back at Tadashi, like an angry father might glare at an unruly child. As if to say _'Well, try explaining your way out of_ _ **that!'**_

"Oh, jeez..." The ex-intern clammered. He fidgeted in his seat slightly, and finally he summered the courage to ask the only thing he could. "Hey... By any chance… Is your name... Vegeta?"

The glowing man's face, which was already illuminated by the ring of fire, lit up even more at this question. Slowly he began to laugh, his shoulders bouncing violently as he seemed to take absolute delight in Tadashi's fear. "You want to know who I am?" He growled, in a voice that sounded far too familiar to the ex-intern that was still shivering on the couch.

"Wait a minute!" Another voice chimed in, and this surprised Tadashi so much that he let out another shrill scream.

"Stop doing that!" The glowing man yelled, putting his hands over his ears. "Gah! That noise is so _infuriating!"_ But then the intruder turned to the source of the second voice, and another man seemed to appear out of the darkness as Tadashi watched.

This one was the taller of the two. And while he wasn't nearly as muscular as the one that was glowing, he still had an impressive amount of tone to his body. He stopped in front of the couch to stand by the other man's side, giving Tadashi a good look before turning back to his companion.

.

" _This_ is the guy?" Yamcha looked at Vegeta with a raised eyebrow. He'd been expecting something different – _way_ different. At the very least, the Z-Fighter had been expecting Tadashi to _somewhat_ resemble Bulma's type… He thought the kid would have been at least a _little_ bit confident, a _tiny_ bit strong-headed, and perhaps even have dark hair. Yamcha had expected the guy to have _some_ muscle on his frame! _Something_ that resembled the type of guy she went for, _at least!_

But _this?_

... This was just some gawky kid!

"That's the one." Vegeta growled, his blonde locking wafting back from his face as he raised his ki even higher.

Yamcha turned back towards Tadashi, who was now cradling another throw pillow as he peeked at them from behind it. With a sigh, the Z-Fighter shook his head. "I don't know, man..."

"What are you talking about?!" Vegeta snarled, turning on Yamcha now.

"I mean, this is just some doof! I don't know if I can go through with this, man. It just feels, well... Don't you think it's kind of _wrong?"_

"You decide to gain a conscious _now?!"_ Vegeta barked. "After we planned and waited for hours!"

"Well, I didn't know the kid would be so pathetic!"

Tadashi, who was watching the two men in front of him as they began to argue, slowly began to lower the pillow that had been shielding his face. He was starting to feel as if he were watching some awkward type of lovers' quarrel, and that was making the ex-intern more than a bit awkward.

"I told you to stay in your corner until I called for you, anyway!" Vegeta was shouting, waving a fist in Yamcha's face. "You were supposed to jump the boy _only_ after I gave the signal!"

"I'm not gonna fuck with this guy, okay?!" Yamcha snapped. "He's like a decade younger than us, dude! It's just too messed up!"

"Don't act as if you would be the one giving the blunt of the harm when I am the one doing the majority of the work, dammit!" Vegeta snarled. "Your purpose was just to scare the ferret! His blood is _mine!"_

"Hey..." Tadashi mumbled awkwardly. He gave a careful wave before pointing to himself. "Are you guys... forgetting something?"

"Now look at what you've done, the fiend is gaining a mouth!" Vegeta barked. "If you aren't going to assist, then just stay out of my way! I already told you I don't _need_ your help, and I'll do it all myself!" The saiyan turned back towards Tadashi then, opening his palm to fire a blast at the wall above the kid's head. The ex-intern let out yet another high-pitched scream, which had Vegeta groaning as his ear drums throbbed. "I told you to stop _doing_ that!"

"I can't help it!" Tadashi cried breathlessly, his heart pounding against the ribs in his chest. "That's just what I do! Who - who are you?!"

"You want to know who I am?" Vegeta growled, a smirk stretching across his lips. He began to step towards the ex-intern then, trying to get as much pleasure in this situation despite Yamcha's protests. "Listen to me, _boy._ I am that of which nightmares are made. I come from shadows when I am least expected, my whereabouts unable to be traced. I seek retribution for the offenses you have inflicted, and I shall not retreat until I have tasted blood."

No words came out of Tadashi's mouth at this – only a long, trembling wail. The boy clawed at the couch cushion he was seated on, kicking his legs up in the air as if this would somehow grant distance between himself and the approaching saiyan.

"Look at him, man!" Yamcha interjected. "You're really freaking him out!"

"Oh will you just _SHUT UP?!"_ Vegeta snarled, turning at the Z-Fighter again. As Tadashi watched in horror, the saiyan landed a firm punch in Yamcha's jaw. "SHUT UP! You keep ruining my vibe!"

"And _I_ told you this is wrong!" Yamcha yelled back, swinging his own arm at Vegeta in retaliation. The next thing Tadashi knew, as he stared with his mouth hanging open, the two strange men were pummeling each other around the room.

A glass bowl that had been left on the coffee table shattered, along with the table itself, as the two men fell on it. Yamcha was laying on his back as Vegeta slammed a fist into his rib. "This is for encouraging me to cheat on my wif - my _WOMAN_ \- with some harlot on the street!" He barked. "And _this_ is for all the times you likely did such a thing when _you_ were still the one she was still infatuated with!"

"Hey, guys?" Tadashi quivered, but the men ignored him.

"Me?!" Yamcha howled, rolling over to avoid another swing of the saiyan's fist. He hadn't been very successful at landing any blows on Vegeta so far, but the Z-Fighter would be damned if he allowed himself to be a punching bag. "Maybe you should learn how to be a decent person!" He barked, flailing his leg into a kick that landed on Vegeta's groin.

"Wow, that might have hurt if you actually had some strength!" Vegeta mocked before pushing himself to his feet. He grabbed Yamcha by the hair and pulled him up, as well. "You useless pest! You lecture me on being a _decent person_ , when you are hardly a mold of that yourself! All you've succeeded with tonight is getting in my way! Do you know how easily I could rip you apart?! Limb-by-limb!"

"Someone's gotta stop you, man! You're just being an asshole! You're _crazy!"_

" _Crazy?"_ With this Vegeta shoved Yamcha, pushing him so hard that the Z-Fighter went flying through the wall and into Tadashi's bedroom. Just as the intern opened his mouth the saiyan turned on him. "Don't you _dare_ scream again, you little squirrel!"

"What do you want from me?! What did I ever do to you?!" Tadashi choked. "I haven't done _anything_ to you! Just - whatever you want - name it! I'll... I'll do anything, _please,_ just PLEASE don't hurt me!"

"I come to seek vengeance for those who you have wronged, and I do so without their knowledge." Vegeta growled. "You know very well what you have done. Trying to feign innocence will only harden your fate."

Tadashi's eyes widened.

"You have lied to an entire race of people, and you have singled out two individuals who you had no business involving yourself with. You have stalked and invaded the privacy of them, and that is inexcusable. What you have done cannot simply be forgiven. You will have to pay, and the only fitting way is to do so with your life."

"AIIIIEEEEEEEHHHHH!" Tadashi wailed, jumping from the couch and dashing for his apartment door. If he could just make it outside, he _might_ stand a chance in being safe from this strange monster that was in his home. No - he _knew_ he'd be safe!

But, before he had even made it to the entrance hall, the glowing man was standing right in front of him. "How did you-?"

"My speed cannot be matched, have you not realized this yet? You prove yourself to not only be coward, but a foolish one at that." Vegeta hissed. "I should beat you half to death right now for trying to run away from me. _I should make it as slow and painful as possible… I_ _ **should**_ reduce you to such pain thast you'll beg for death, just to be relieved of your misery. _"_

"I'm sorry!" Tadashi squealed, clapping his hands together as if he were about to pray. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it! I didn't know it was a lie when I went to the media! I thought it was the truth! I didn't know – _I didn't know!"_

"You had nothing to base your accusations on, and you knew _that!"_ Vegeta spat, watching as Tadashi slid into a kneeling position on the floor. "In fact, I would say that you did such a thing out of spite. For every woman on this planet that must suffer such real consequences of a violent mate, you have insulted them. You have taken attention away from them by putting false focus on a hypothetical lie. You have mocked their circumstances, and for that you will pay."

"I thought I was helping her!" Tadashi crowed.

"You acted with malice!"

"How - How do you know, though?" The ex intern trembled. "How can you-"

"I am the angel of death." Vegeta hissed. "I know all when it comes to an inferior species such as you. Give me one reason why I shouldn't destroy you right now!"

"I-!" Tadashi squealed. "I-!"

…And then he began to cry the first thing that came to his mind. It was a slur of words, each syllable melting into the other as he wailed and begged for mercy. His cheeks were puffy and moist with tears as he stuttered the only thing that he could think of on to possibly make amends. And, as Tadashi wailed, Vegeta's grip of the boy loosened.

The truth of the matter was the entire night had gone exactly to plan. It was all falling together perfectly, and the end result was just as the saiyan had expected...

Yamcha hadn't even been in on what Vegeta had orchestrated. His protests of morals had been completely authentic, but the saiyan had anticipated such a thing. In fact, he'd been _hoping_ that the Z-Fighter would have a change of heart after seeing how pathetic the beta male truly was. And Vegeta had been glad when he'd gotten enough of a buildup to throw a punch at Bulma's hateful ex.

The first swing had been an act, but the anger that came boiling out after that had been unexpected. The saiyan had nearly lost grip on his temper as he had been beating Yamcha, his frustration coming to the surface with this new opportunity. But Vegeta had managed to get himself back under control, and his rage had only worked to make the show of fists even greater.

What better way to terrify Tadashi than to give him a view of what was to come? If Vegeta had to actually use his hands on the beta, he was sure he wouldn't be able to hold back enough to actually keep the kid alive.

_And the kid certainly needed to stay alive if his plan was going to come into fruition…_

Vegeta had known he'd need to resort to other means of intimidation. And, to the saiyan's delight, this had meant pounding on one of the only other living men that Vegeta had such disdain for.

Now, as the beta child babbled and sobbed until he was gasping for air, the saiyan took a step back to watch the boy in his state.

' _I've got him.'_ The saiyan thought, nodding smugly.

Everything was going absolutely _perfect…_

.

There was no telling how late it was when Vegeta landed in his own front yard. The night was so still that his own thoughts seemed to pass through his mind like a blowhorn, and the saiyan let himself into the house feeling as if he sounded like a drunk mess.

As he crept through his living room and towards the staircase, Vegeta couldn't help but remember how chaotic the place had been when he had left earlier in the day. With as silent as it was now, one wouldn't have guessed that a few hours earlier it had been filled with people who were speaking loudly and falling over one another. It was amazing how quickly his home had returned to its rightful state of peace, and the prince of all saiyans couldn't be any happier at the realization of it.

He was going to have his privacy once again!

Trailing up the stairs and down the hall, the saiyan stopped at Trunks' bedroom and carefully creaked the door open. He glanced inside to see the dark silhouette of the crib's remains, still laying in a messy pile just where the boy had destroyed it. _'How could I have forgotten?'_ Vegeta thought with a grin, trying not to laugh at the idea of his son being so strong that he'd accidentally torn up his furniture. Stepping back into the hall, Vegeta turned and made his way towards his own room.

Once the door shut behind him, Vegeta immediate ripped his clothes off. He kept his eyes on the outline of the Bluehead, who was laying with her back to him as he stripped down to only his boxers. The saiyan climbed into bed, slipping under the covers and scooting into the woman's body.

When his chest touched her back, she let out a low sigh. She arched against his touch, but otherwise did not stir. It was clear that she was deep in whatever dream she was having, and her calm demeanor was rubbing off on the saiyan prince. It was so soothing just to be so _near_ her!

Thinking fondly that Kakarot's wife was now staying with her own father, the idea of getting to have more alone time with his family again made Vegeta grin. His hands, which had been dormant until that point, began to loosely trail towards Bulma's hips.

Admiring the woman who was so close against his skin, Vegeta began to slowly drag his fingertips along the outline of her body. _'I wonder if she'll react well to me waking her up like this,'_ Vegeta thought deviously, prodding his pelvis against her back. Slowly his hands continued to trail up along her figure, finding the hemline of her night shirt and carefully sliding it up.

It was when his palms wrapped around to the front of her stomach that Vegeta paused in action, noting that there was something unexpected there. It was a large bulk of flesh that seemed to be attached to Bulma's upper torso, and as Vegeta examined the object, his fingers found what felt like two small toes. And, as his hand moved up this specimen, he sure enough found that the toes were attached to a miniature foot.

' _Of course!'_ He thought, quickly retracting his arm from around Bulma. _**Of course**_ the boy would be sleeping with the Bluehead. Where else would he have been when the child had broken his own bed?!

Suddenly Vegeta felt the stinging shock of repulsion, biting his lip at the realization that he had been about to wake his Woman up for a spontaneous act of lust - while the boy had been laying _right there_ beside them _!_ The saiyan pushed himself away, scooting for the edge of the bed to add distance between himself and his son.

 _Sharing a_ _ **bed**_ _…_ with his **son?** _'It's just wrong!'_ Yamcha's earlier words replayed in the saiyan's mind. Vegeta was suddenly struck with the need to go and find slumber on the couch downstairs. He clenched his hand into a fist, replaying the feel of the soft skin of his child's foot that he had unknowingly caressed.

… He heard Trunks groan in his sleep, the rustling of the blankets as the boy began to stir.

Then, Vegeta listened as Bulma _"shh"_ ed the baby. He felt the mattress creak as she evidently pulled the boy tighter into her hold, planting an audible kiss somewhere on the toddler's head. _"It's alright, baby."_ She breathed mindlessly. " _Shh..."_

She wasn't even awake, and yet she was comforting their son? How could such an instinct be so natural to her? How could Bulma be so carefree about showing such shameless affection towards the boy? Vegeta had never understood this about her. He'd never understood this blatant softness that she was able to be so genuine with… He never understood how she could _be_ so _kind,_ even to the saiyan prince, himself…

As Vegeta continued listening to his mate as she whispered sleepy nothings to their son, he began to reflect on his own childhood…

… Try as he might, Vegeta couldn't recall a single time he had received such tenderness from his own parents. His mother had been an avid believer in something that he'd heard described on Earth as "tough love". She felt that parenting was only done in one way - and that was with brutal threats and merciless fists. The saiyan had spent a lot of his time as a child dodging and blocking his mother's strikes, and this was regardless of any actions of his own.

If Vegeta had done something against the rules, he would easily expect to receive a lashing as a _"lesson to not make the same stupid decision"._ And, if he hadn't misbehaved at all, he'd still receive the same lashing as a _"precautionary measure" –_ _ **just**_ to make sure he always remembered his place _._

His father hadn't been any better, though most of the times he had chosen to parent but showing utter indifference to the saiyan prince. At least his mother had given him attention each day - King Vegeta didn't see such use in acknowledging his only son. He could remember overhearing his parents during an argument one night, his father yelling "Babysitting a useless child doesn't suit the duties of a damned king!"

Kami, Vegeta raised an eyebrow as he turned back toward his sleeping kin. He could still only make out Bulma's form in the dark, her figure shielding Trunks from his line of vision. The Bluehead was so _strange_ , wasn't she? She was absolutely _peculiar,_ and yet it was in a good way… She was unlike anything he had come to expect of what a mother should be. She went against everything he'd known! Yet, as time passed and he grew used to her affectionate mannerisms, Vegeta found that he was rather fond of her nature.

Not that he'd ever admit such a thing, of course...

Especially after all of his berating and boasting, he could _never_ utter than the Bluehead might be right about the boy…

' _How did I manage to get here?'_ Vegeta thought, and this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Just a few years earlier the saiyan would never have expected to be where he was at that moment, laying in bed with a hot alien woman and the child they had created. Yet, there he was, and he was frightfully comfortable with such a fate.

Carefully and slowly, Vegeta began to scoot back towards his Woman. Settling back into the position he'd been in a few moments earlier, Vegeta pressed his chest against Bulma's back as his arms wrapped once again around her form.

… This time, his palm settled on the chest of his son. While it may have taken some getting used to, Vegeta didn't care to pull it away…

.

An urgent knocking at the front door had Bulma scrambling from Trunks' room the next day. It was just after lunch, and the hired workers had finally arrived to put together the toddler's new bed in place of his shattered crib.

The knocking at the door was so loud and frantic that the Bluehead nearly tripped over her feet as she ran down the stairs as fast as she could. As she rounded the corner towards the foyer, she could hear her mother's voice calling from outside. "Honey! Honey! Hurry up, dear!"

"What is it?" Bulma gasped when she finally swung the door open, and her blonde mother nearly trampled her as she went bursting into the house. "Hurry, dear! _Quick!_ Before we miss it! You've gotta turn on Channel 9!"

"What's the matter?" Bulma was patting her hair back in place, watching her mother with marked intolerance as Mrs. Briefs went racing for the den.

"Just come on!" Mrs. Briefs called, finding the remote and clicking the television on.

"I don't care about TV, Mom." Bulma mumbled irritably, trying to keep her mood from souring. "You _know_ that." Channel 9 was the 24/7 news station. It went without saying that Bulma had lost her faith in the news, so _what on Earth_ would bring her mom to suggest such a thing?

"Oh, just sit down, already!" Mrs. Briefs snapped. She was holding her finger down on the volume button of the remote, and the television was growing louder by the second. Rolling her eyes, Bulma decided to just humor her mother, and she begrudgingly took a seat next to her on the silky couch. With her arms folded over her chest - in a very _Vegeta_ fashion - the Bluehead scowled up at the TV screen. But, as she registered what she was watching, her face quickly softened.

There, sitting at a desk with camera flashes popping in his face as he spoke, was a restless looking Tadashi. There were deep bags under his eyes, which were bloodshot and swollen as if he'd been awake for days. The ex-intern appeared to be even more high-strung and fidgety than Bulma even remembered, his shoulders trembling as he spoke grimly at the camera.

"I made it all up." He was saying. "I paid an ex-roommate to doctor the photos of her face. I fabricated the story. There is not a grain of truth in the recent rumors about the state of Bulma Briefs' relationship. It was all perpetrated by me, and it was wrong."

Her deep blue eyes were wide as she watched the screen, her breath caught in her throat. Bulma watched in amazement as Tadashi continued to detail the inaccuracies and lack of proof he had in all of the accusations that had been rounding the press concerning her safety.

"Can you believe it, honey?" Mrs. Briefs squealed. "I never thought this would actually happen!"

"Ssh!" Bulma hissed, putting a hand on her mother to silence her.

"What would bring you to do such a thing?" A reporter was now asking the shaking boy on the TV. Tadashi gulped at the question, dropping his head to the table he sat at, as his trembling shoulders began to slouch.

"I don't..." He sighed. "I don't know... I don't have an excuse." Tadashi picked his head up then, facing directly towards the camera. Bulma raised her brows, the ex-intern's eyes staring straight into hers even though he physically was kilometers away.

"Bulma…" He said with morose. "I just hope you'll find it in yourself to forgive me… I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

Her lips were pursed, and it was at this that Bulma forcefully grabbed the remote from her mother and clicked off the TV. With a _"hmph!"_ she stood and began to make her way back towards the stairs.

"Hey!" Mrs. Briefs called, jumping up to make after her daughter. "Where are ya goin'? What do you think of all that?!"

"I'm going to supervise my son's bed to make sure it's put together properly." Bulma replied, sounding more cross than Mrs. Briefs would have expected in a moment such as this. Shouldn't the Bluehead be _happy?_ Shouldn't she be basking from the retribution?

"But-!"

"I _think_ that I've already moved on from the mess that brat created, and the only thing that will come out of the press conference is the fact that the rest of the world knows just how full of shit he really is!" There was a snarl in Bulma's voice that made Mrs. Briefs nearly jump, but when Bulma looked over her shoulder the blonde housewife sighed with relief. Regardless of how residually angry Bulma obviously was about everything, there was still a sparkle in her eye. A hidden grin that she was refusing to show on her lips, but those beautiful eyes of hers could not mask it.

Mrs. Briefs nodded carefully, trying not to let on that she could see through her daughter's tough veil. "Where is Trunskie?" She asked, deciding it was best to let the matter drop.

"Oh? Where else would he be?" Bulma said, and it was then that she allowed herself to truly smile. "Right now he's in the training room. _With his Dad._ "


	47. The Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RECAP:  
> After the long awaited birth of Goten at Bulma and Vegeta's house, everyone showed up to welcome the baby to the world. This included Yamcha, who seemed to have been waiting for the chance to see Bulma again. He confronts Bulma about all of the rumors that had been going through the press several months before about Vegeta abusing her after she was photographed with the bruises she got from an attempted kidnapping. Bulma became so angry that she ended up telling Yamcha the truth just what had happened, which renders him shocked to learn how completely different the truth had been.
> 
> Vegeta is pissed at Yamcha for putting Bulma in the situation, but he is able to convince the saiyan to let him go with to seek vengeance on Tadashi for starting the ill-rumors with the press in the first place. After spending the rest of the day in the city as they waited for the sun to set, Vegeta is even more irritated with Yamcha after seeing how he is so quick to flirts with opposite sex, and even tried to encourage Vegeta to do the same (despite his relationship with Bulma).
> 
> When the two finally confront Tadashi, Yamcha has a change of heart after seeing just how small and frail the guy really is. He ends up trying to come to his defense, telling Vegeta that it didn't seem right to be so harsh with him. The two end up in a fight that destroys a lot of Tadashi's apartment, and it is obviously about much more than just a disagreement on how to handle the entire situation with the beta male. During this fight Vegeta lands a hit on Yamcha while saying "This is for encouraging me to cheat on my wif - my WOMAN - with some harlot on the street!"
> 
> Tadashi ends up so intimidated by watching the fight that he begs for Vegeta's forgiveness and claims he'll do anything the saiyan asks. Little did anyone know that this entire scene may have just been something that Vegeta had been expecting, and even planned, all along. The next morning Tadashi holds a press conference in which he confesses to having fabricated the rumors and publicly begs to Bulma's forgiveness.
> 
> (If this recap does not ring familiar, be sure to re-read the last two chapters before this one! :)

* * *

 

"Yay, Trunks!"

The toddler blinked back the surprise at having everyone shouting his name. He was propped up in his high chair, staring wide eyed as nearly each person he could remember meeting clapped and cheered. The only person who wasn't joining in with the cries of celebration was Vegeta, who stood at the far end of the room with his back tucked into the corner.

Mrs. Briefs had some kind of noise maker plopped in her mouth, and as she blew in it a loud squeal sounded from its tube. Trunks' mouth dropped open at this, studying his grandmother and trying to determine what to make of her behavior.

"What a big birthday boy you are!" Bulma's voice finally said, and the child tore his eyes over to see his mommy as she approached him. The toddler's eyes lit up as he examined what she was carrying with her - and it was a giant cake, the likes of which he'd never _seen_ before!

Neon green and electric blue lined the icing, from which two tall candles were sparkling. It looked _delicious_ , and it smelled incredible too. The crowd erupted into an adoring laugh when Trunks' jaw seemed to fall to his lap with an excited grin. He didn't care about their amusement, though, for he was all too eager to care. He waved his arms at the cake, trying to will it over to him as his mother moved so _painfully_ slow...

"Okay, everyone!" Bulma said when she had finally placed the cake on Trunks' tray. She turned to look at her guests, even nodding an acknowledgment to Vegeta at the back of the room. "Tine to sing! On the count of three!"

But the Bluehead quickly realized that nobody was looking at her as she spoke. In fact, every eye in that room seemed to peer right through her - including Vegeta's. The saiyan, who had been sporting a disgusted grimace at the sentimentality of this entire day, was now suspiciously sporting a semi-amused grin. His expression was what made Bulma uneasy - for _him_ to find amusement, something must surely be going wrong…

Already knowing fully well what the likely cause of disruption was, Bulma sighed as she turned around to follow everybody's gaze.

"Oh, TRUNKS!"

Small blue eyes blinked up at Bulma, the toddler's face completely covered with the neon green icing that had once been decorating his cake. His pudgy hands were also green, clumps of white dough sugar-glued to his knuckles and thumbs. His cheeks were still full as he actively chewed, and a moment later he gulped his dessert down with a satisfied smack of the lips. "Ahh!" Now, _that_ hit the spot!

"You were supposed to wait..." Bulma put her hands on her hips, sighing with disappointment.

"Eyes hurt!" Trunks replied, blinking irritably. "My eyes hurt!"

"Well, you probably got icing in them." Bulma replied, her cheeks puffing out. She had been waiting for this moment for _two_ years, and she'd lost her chance to watch her son finally blow out some birthday candles. "This is why you have to eat more slowly. You need to keep the food _out_ of your eyes, remember?"

"Eyes HURT!" Trunks repeated, this time sounding more than cross. He let out a loud squeak, wiping at his face even more furiously as his irises burned unapologetically.

"Quiet, boy." Vegeta growled, and these were the first words he spoke ever since the party had commenced.

"No, DAD!" Trunks barked back. Clearly, the boy was enraged that nobody seemed to be taking his complaints seriously. "MY EYES HURT!"

"He gets this behavior from _you_ , you know." Bulma heard Vegeta's voice as he breezed past her. "Right, because _you_ don't have a temper at all." She replied as she stepped back and crossed her arms. In one swooping motion Vegeta pulled the tray off Trunks' highchair before scooping the child up by the back of his shirt. Lugging him as if he were a sack of grocery, the saiyan began to march towards the room's exit as Trunks slowly began to cease in his protests.

In fact, the toddler was now acutely aware that he was dangling by a few threads of his shirt, and he let out a happy coo at the thrill of it. His stomach was hovering parallel to the floor as if he were flying, and Trunks wiped the last of the icing from his eyes before looking up to see his surroundings as his father lugged him through his birthday crowd. "GO-AHN!" He grinned as he approached his favorite friend. Gohan was standing beside Chi-Chi, who was holding a 6 month old Goten in her arms. The teenager smiled at Trunks as he stepped back to make way for Vegeta. "GO-AHN!" Trunks repeated. He held his hand out for a high five, which was a new gesture he had recently learned - and it had quickly become his favorite method greeting.

Unfortunately, Vegeta was moving too swiftly for Gohan to return the high-five, and thus Trunks was left hanging. He frowned at his hand as the two made it to the dining room's door, and the child was far too distracted by this to bother saying goodbye as his father lugged him around the corner…

Bulma watched as the centerpiece of the entire party disappeared, along with his disgruntled father. There was no doubt in her mind that Vegeta was secretly glad about Trunks' antics - the antisocial alien was likely bursting inside that he'd been given a good reason to slip away from these festivities. "How disappointing..." The Bluehead muttered as someone clicked on the lights in the room.

"Good thing we've got another cake where that one came from!" Mrs. Briefs bubbled. Having already lived through the years of toddlerhood, she had prepared two cakes for this party. Bulma rolled her eyes. Her mother's announcement was a reference to an ongoing bet they had placed weeks earlier, when they'd started making arrangements for the celebration. Mrs. Briefs had insisted that Bulma shouldn't get her hopes up on everything going the way a typical birthday celebration did. In her opinion, Trunks was still far too young to understand the concept of balloons, candles, and party hats.

But Bulma, who had her hopes high, had refused to listen. The whole family had missed out on Trunks' first birthday - what with Cell, the Androids, and the impending destruction of Earth, and all. She had been waiting long enough to experience a celebration like this for her dear little son, and she was certain that everything would go just as smoothly as her dreams had led her to believe.

But _damn_ Mrs. Briefs for being right - Trunks had just taken all normalcy and swept it into his mouth, along with that creamy cake!

"Just so we're certain." Bulma said to her mother, clearing her throat as her guests watched the exchange. "Our bet was over whether or not Trunks is old enough to blow out his own candles. SWALLOWING the cake whole has nothing to do with AGE. _That_ is because he has his father's genes."

"Don't involve me!" Vegeta's voice blared just then. The muffle of his words sounded as if he had already made it to the stairway as he lugged Trunks even closer to his impending bath. Bulma jumped, a mischievous grin widening across her pale features. She'd known the man for years, and still the Bluehead didn't think she would ever get used to his acute sense of hearing…

...

The party was over within a few hours, when each guest slowly dissipated from the household. Mr. Briefs was the first to leave, claiming that he had eaten so much cake that he would need to nap for about seven days straight. Krillin was the second to leave, saying he had business to take care of in the city before it got too late.

Even Yamcha had shown up for the festivities, and he was so much more pleasant to Bulma than he had been in a long time. He wasn't overly defensive about her and Vegeta's relationship, he didn't say anything personal or provoking, and he was even nice enough to watch over Trunks and Goten while Bulma and Chi-Chi made last minute arrangements with the decor. Eventually Yamcha left the party with Gohan for a playful round of sparring. This was despite the fact that the Z Fighter had long ago retired from his days of training, but he was doing it just to spend time with the young teen.

And even baby Goten had grown bored of the ordeal, for he grew so cranky that Chi-Chi had to throw in the towel. "He's been teething," She had tried to explain. "He won't calm down until I get him home and run his bath."

This meant that only Mrs. Briefs was left. And after she finished helping Bulma to clean everything up, she retreated to her own house, too. Finally alone, the Bluehead was now at liberty to trail upstairs and see what the two males in her life had been up to…

… Things had grown so oddlyy routine over the last few months, with everything seeming to fall into place without any force or effort. Bulma was back to spending her days at Capsule Corp, where progress was accelerating in one of their biggest projects. Trunks spent most of his days in the care of Mrs. Briefs - although Bulma suspected that Vegeta was secretly confiscating the child so that they could train together while she was away at work. Trunks seemed to be growing stronger each time she saw him, with small muscles starting to form on his figure that both amazed and disturbed his mother at the same time whenever she saw them.

They just seemed so unfitting of her lovable little Trunks, who wouldn't hurt a fly - at least, not on purpose! Bulma couldn't help but to wonder if her two year old son was too young to be training hard enough to sport such tone, yet he seemed to be proud of them. He _was_ half-saiyan, after all! And, of course, she _did_ rather admire the muscles that Vegeta had packed on over his years... So what harm was this? If Vegeta wanted to spend his time bonding with his son, and Trunks didn't seem bothered by whatever it was they were doing together in the gravity room, then Bulma was ecstatic about that.

"They're all gone?" Vegeta asked as Bulma turned into their bedroom. At that moment Trunks was sitting by himself in his own room, and the two adults could hear his enthusiastic squeals as he roughly flailed his toy planes around.

"Well, there wasn't much of a party after Trunks left." The Bluehead shrugged. She let herself fall back on her bed, looking up at the saiyan as he pulled a fresh set of clothes from the dresser. "So, how bad was it for you? Were you dying inside the whole time? You looked _miserable_."

"It wasn't bad." His lips were pursed.

"What a lie!" Bulma sat up with a grin, grabbing a pillow and playfully brandishing it at him. The saiyan didn't find humor in her childish threat. Instead of smirking, like she had expected, he simply rolled his eyes. "You invited Yamcha to our house, _again_."

"Yeah, well..." Her smile was dropping. She knew that he wasn't a fan of get-togethers, but was he actually angry about this? "Everybody else was coming. At this point if I'm inviting everyone, then it's basically mandatory that he be included, too."

"Right, but he was _still_ here. For the first time since Kakarot's son was born."

"Yes, I know. It's been a few months since we've seen him, but what does that have to do with-"

"The last time I saw him, I kicked his ass." Vegeta no longer seemed angry, but instead appeared to be distracted by his own thoughts as he commenced pacing around the room. Bulma's frown deepened with curiosity as she watched. What was with him? "I kicked his ass, and I'm being reminded of it all over again."

"I know what happened, I was there." Bulma stood up. Of course, she was thinking back on when the saiyan had punched Yamcha out for cornering her into confessing about being attacked. She'd gotten so emotional as she replayed that night to her ex, and Vegeta had simply _reacted_ to the situation... Of course, the Bluehead wasn't aware that Vegeta and Yamcha had been involved in another dispute just a few hours later... in Tadashi's own living room...

"I'm not talking about when he was here and making a fool out of himself!" Vegeta snapped. He purposely had avoided telling Bulma anything of what happened the night that he and Yamcha disappeared into West City, despite how many times she tried to ask him where he'd run off to. The saiyan was smart though, and he knew that Bulma had a suspicion that he had something to do with the beta male's desperate plea for forgiveness on national television. He wouldn't admit to it, though - why should he? He had gotten a taste of sweet revenge - even though it had been far less violent than he was used to.

The saiyan rather enjoyed that the confrontation was his little secret, but now he sighed and ran an irritable hand through his hair. He was going to have to tell her the truth, and he was going to have to endure the humiliation of it.

"Look..." He muttered, storming across the room to take a stiff seat at the opposite end of the bed…

.

"You know, I can see why you didn't want to tell me what you did." Bulma frowned thoughtfully after his recap was all said and done. "I mean - I was pretty defensive for a while because I didn't want to admit that you were right about him... But I wish you would have just told me. I knew you had something to do with it! I just _knew_!"

She had a smile on her face, and Vegeta leaned away at she began to crawl across the bed to him.

"He looked so scared when he was making his announcement, and I had no doubt you did something to him... I had no idea you got him to confess without laying a finger on him..." She was grinning ear to ear now. "You really were trying to take my wishes into consideration – and- Oh, Vegeta, that's just so brilliant!"

"I beat up Yamcha." He scowled, fighting the sensation of his cheeks turning red. _Gads_ \- this was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid. He quick dodged away as Bulma attempted to wrap her adoring arms around him, his stomach pulsing with the sickening threat of this mushy behavior. Oh, he _hated_ having to so bluntly admit when he'd done something out of care! "I laid more than just a finger on him. Weren't you listening? I _did_ use my hands!"

"Yeah, but Yamcha can take a punch." Bulma was shrugging this part of the story off with far too much ease. "And he didn't seem to mind when I saw him today." She was stepping off the bed now so she could continue her advances on the saiyan. He jumped even further away, shaking his head like a reluctant child. "That isn't even the point of this, Woman! Don't lose sight!"

His tone worked, because Bulma immediately fell back on the mattress again. Now Vegeta was pacing back and forth across the bedroom once more, and he was starting to look at if he were trying to convince himself that it was worth continuing with what he was wanting to say. "When I was clashing with Yamcha back in the Beta's home, a word slipped out of my mouth." He looked as if he were trying not to hurl, and he closed his strained eyes as if the memory pained him to even think of.

"What word?" The bubbly admiration was gone from the Bluehead's voice, who was once again curious as to what on _Earth_ had left this man so distraught. "What did you call him? Look, if it was something derogatory then-"

"I didn't call _him_ anything!" Vegeta's fuse blew as he whirled on her. "Stop assuming and let me finish, Woman! This has nothing to do with anything I called that pig! The word I used was in reference to YOU!"

"What-"

"I called you my WIFE, DAMNIT!" Vegeta was barking as he spun around on his heels to make sure his back was to the Bluehead as the words left his mouth. "I told Yamcha you were my _wife_ , instead of my _Woman_!"

"Oh…"

"Dahhhd called Mommy a-" Trunks, who had obviously been listening in on his father's loud yells, began to cheerfully sing from the other room. "Not now, son!" Vegeta spat before turning to face Bulma again. "I tried to forget about my slip of tongue, but I haven't. It was honestly haunting me for days after the event, but eventually I was able to free myself of its harassment of my conscious. Seeing that fiend again only made me it come back, and I can't do this again. Look, I want to – I… I WANT to use that word in literal terms, Woman! Do you understand what that means!?"

"Uh-"

He was staring into her eyes, breathing heavily as he slow-stepped towards her. There was actually a line of sweat running down the side of his face, and his bright red cheeks were slowing starting to fade back to their normal olive hue. Vegeta's eyes were wide with internal relief at having finally made this confession, and he was looking her up and down as he stopped just above her body. Bulma had her head dropped to avoid his gaze, instead choosing to stare at his thighs as she considered everything he had just said.

And then, without another word, he sat. He sat so close that his shoulders were nudging into her own as he relaxed into the mattress, and finally he let out the breath of air he'd been holding. Bulma quickly realized that the saiyan wasn't planning on elaborating on _what,_ exactly, all of _this meant._ He knew that he didn't have to explain – he was just going to let her process everything and come to her own conclusion. The Bluehead stared down at her knees, feeling as his body relaxed even deeper against her side. Clearly **he** was happy to have gotten this off his chest, but she was far from it.

This _just_ wouldn't do for her.

"That's _it?_ "

"Yes… That's all." Vegeta mumbled. Evidently, he had been waiting to hear what her reaction would be, and the words she used hadn't been what he was expecting.

"No." Bulma shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. "No – no, no. You can't be _serious_?"

"Why would I say something like that if I wasn't?"

"Because _that_ is not acceptable!" The Bluehead pushed herself up from the bed. Now it was her turn to start pacing around the room. She was violently shaking her head as she moved, speaking so fast that she could have been talking to herself, for all intents and purposes. "No. You don't get to just start referring to me as your _wife_ – not like _that."_

"What do yo-"

"Look at me, Vegeta!" Bulma snapped her fingers. Now she was the one to have red cheeks – although, judging by her expression, the discoloration came from anger rather than embarrassment. "I'm Bulma Briefs – just _look_ at me! Do you know how valuable I am?! Not only am I a feast for the eyes, but I'm also the heiress of a multi-billion dollar industry! Do you know how _rare_ someone like me is?! How many men would give their arms and legs _just_ to see me in the flesh?! Do you know how _lucky_ you are to even be breathing _my_ air?!"

"I'm nowhere _near_ as lucky as _you_ are." The saiyan snapped back, never one to back down from a challenge – especially when it was a contest of egos. "In case you've forgotten, _Woman_ , but I-"

"Yeah, yeah-" She waved her hand at him in dismissal. "You're the prince of an entire ancient warrior race, hell bent on destruction of the masses, could end an whole planet with the palm of your hand… I get it. I've heard this a thousand times before, whatever! But **I! _I am Bulma Briefs!_** And I am _NOT_ going to settle for such a ridiculous proposal like that!"

"I-"

"You know – I get that you're an alien, and you don't understand a lot of Earth customs. Obviously, I understand. And I CAN SEE that you're not the kind of man to get down on one knee and give me some speech about how special I am to you, but – oh - _come on!_ You didn't even ask me if I even _want_ to **be** your wife, you idiot! I deserve a lot better than _that!"_ She was once again shaking her head as if she was trying to render herself dizzy, and now she was making for the door. "Gah – and I thought the proposal _Yamcha_ gave me was awful! At least he has the excuse of just having been young and stupid at the time! I'd expect _way_ better from _you!_ "

Vegeta watched as Bulma disappeared down the hall, resisting the urge to shout something snide back. But, as the moments passed, so did the feeling of contempt that came with being berated in such a way… Did Bulma really care _that_ much about _how_ Vegeta presented the topic of matrimony? Was a wedding proposal really _that_ big of a deal on this scrawny planet?

It wasn't as if what just occurred had even an actual wedding – it was only a mere _proposal!_ Why did the manner in which he told her his desires matter?! He had finally sucked it up and confessed that he wanted to consider her his _wife_ – shouldn't she be happy about **that?** Shouldn't she be jumping for joy at such an opportunity, instead of fixating on technicalities?

"Wait a minute…" His tongue curled as her words replayed in his head. _"You didn't even ask me if I even want to **be** your wife, you idiot!" _ She had barked. What did _that_ imply? Was the idea of this something that she actually had to consider? Did she not automatically feel that this was the next reasonable course of action? Did she _not_ want to be such a thing as **his** _wife?_

He could hear Bulma speaking to Trunks from the other room. She was scolding the boy – telling him that a "tummy-ache" was the reasonable consequence for consuming an entire birthday cake – including lit candles - in just two seconds.

"But it HURTS!" Trunks was wailing back at his mom. Vegeta furrowed his eyebrows. This child had only been two Earth years old for less than twenty-four hours, and his attitude was already exponentially worse than it had been just a day earlier. It was if becoming two years old had awakened some type of demon within the boy's veins. "Don't talk back to your mother, son!" Vegeta called from where he sat, and he raised a hand to massage his throbbing temples.

Once again, Bulma had made sure that the day was coming to an end in a much different way that the saiyan had been anticipating. "Great." He was growling. "I suppose I'll have to have a conversation with her _mother_."

.

Mrs. Briefs was trimming one of her rose bushes when a shadow formed from behind her. She had been humming to herself as she worked, and she didn't miss a note as she nodded to acknowledge her company. "Trunksie has just fallen asleep for his morning nap, V. You can wake him up, but he'll be extra cranky during his training today!"

"Yes, I know that." Vegeta's voice replied, sounding just as cranky as Mrs. Briefs had predicted her grandson to be. "Listen, I'm not here for the boy. I came here for _you_."

 _"Me?"_ She spun around, breaking a rosebud off of her bush in the process. "Aww, V! You wanna visit with _me?"_

"Yes, but… but don't touch me." He preemptively took a step back to dodge any hug she might try to offer, holding his hands out in front of himself to act as a shield. Mrs. Briefs, the ever so bubbly and affectionate woman that she was, always had the instinct to hug and kiss anyone she felt fit. She had known he saiyan for years, and despite his mannerisms she still treated him no differently than anybody else. She didn't care how he felt about hugs or smooches, and it never surprised her when he acted to off-put. "One day he'll come around," She always told herself during these moments, so she was never very offended by his chronically defensive demeanor.

This man – oh, Mrs. Briefs just _loved_ him. He was obsessive compulsive, extremely hot-headed and brash, and even a bit anti-social when it came to pleasantries, but Vegeta was still _such_ a sweetheart. She had been around to witness his relationship with Bulma through the years, which included the more _difficult_ of times. His reserved and brute nature had caused quite a rift between the two at one point - but she had also seen tremendous growth in him since then. Vegeta was still just as standoffish as ever to nearly everyone he met, but when it came to his family he was one of the most attentive men that Mrs. Briefs had ever known. It was clear that the saiyan had found a way to take a lot of the trauma and isolation he had grown used to during his time, and channel it into his blossoming family rather than living in absolute scorn instead. Bulma and Trunks seemed to be the only things keeping him from succumbing to the darker sides of his mind, and he really had put in a lot of work into what the couple now had… He tried not to show or express it openly, but it was plain to see in his actions alone that his entire world revolved around Bulma and Trunks! And, for that alone, Mrs. Briefs could never take any of the saiyan's actions personally. Not even when he so bluntly spat for her not to touch him – which _really was_ rather rude!

"Come on, V, let's go inside. I'll make ya somethin' to eat, and you can tell me what's on your mind." Mrs. Briefs smiled – _oh, how she wished she could put an arm around his shoulders!_ Vegeta nodded, his lips pale from how tightly he was pursing them. The grandmother smiled down as the little rosebud in her hand before gently placing it back on the bush. Then, with a small giggle, she began to lead the saiyan to the dining room. She was rather curious to see what this visit was about!

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go – FINALLY there is an update to The 7 Year Gap! I hope this was a good ease back into things. ;) It is no secret that I have been going through a bout of writer's block with this story, but I've got enough of a plot worked up in my head to keep this going for a while. That being said, I am a much busier person than I was the last time I updated. I know that I will not be posting new chapters to my stories as consistently as I would like, but I am going to try to give them as much attention as I can.
> 
> I have been thinking of making either a Tumblr or a Twitter for the sole purpose of communicating outside of fanfiction. That way I can keep you all in the loop when I start on a new chapter, when I anticipate the next update will be, etc… That way you all won't be left to wonder if I am ever even going to come back, or if I disappeared off the face of the planet forever. I have seen other authors that do this, which is how I got the idea. So, what do you all think? Would a twitter or tumblr page be something you would even care about? Please let me know in a review and I'll take it into consideration!


	48. Relief from Monotony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I was very pleasantly surprised at the response my last update received. I am very grateful to you all for sticking with me, even though at times I can be pretty inconsistent with posting. I never want to abandon this story, and if there ever comes a time when I feel that way I will be sure to at least let you guys know. I put a lot of work into The 7 Year Gap over the course of the years, and it helped me grow a lot as a writer. I want to at least keep it going until it can receive the ending it deserves. I think this story has earned a proper ending.
> 
> Second of all, I have gotten a lot of questions regarding Bulla. I do plan to write about her entrance into the world. Right now, I don't know when that will be. We had a 6 month jump in the last chapter, and I'm not sure if we will see another skip in time before Bulla comes (or if I will just keep writing enough to fill up the rest of the 7 years) I have been planning to write about Bulla's birth since before it was covered in Super, so my version will of course be my own. :)
> 
> Third, I did end up making a Tumblr to post updates on. I have the same username on there (surelysaiyangood), so hopefully you can find me fairly easily. I did intend to make a twitter (for those of you that don't use Tumblr), but it has been giving me a lot of trouble. You don't have to follow me if you don't want to, but definitely keep my Tumblr in mind in case I go a while without updating and you start to wonder. I'll be posting updates on there!
> 
> Once again thank you to everyone! I wasn't sure if anyone would care about this story anymore, and I was overwhelmed with how great you guys are. :) It really is inspiring.

* * *

.

"Okay, now what is it you needed to see me for?" Mrs. Briefs was taking a dainty seat across from the disheveled saiyan. He had been acting so beside himself - so uncharacteristically unassured and nervous - that she'd served him a plate of stir-fry to help calm his nerves. Vegeta quickly devoured the food he'd been given, but the meal didn't seem to help at all. He was now sporting a look on his face as if he were sitting on a rusty nail, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably from one side of the chair to other when she asked him to start talking. Mrs. Briefs couldn't help but smile at the man in front of her. It was moments like these when she could really see what Bulma liked about him. How fascinating it was to witness such a self-proclaimed monster act so utterly vulnerable!

"Well... the thing is..." Vegeta mumbled, and then his voice broke into a cough. He put a fist to his mouth as he cleared his throat, and Mrs. Briefs could only grin even wider. He really _was_ putting himself out, wasn't he! She could just guess that he was going to say something about Bulma, and he was actually _embarrassed_ to do it! Now, how cute was this?!

"It's about Bulma - and do NOT tell her I came here." He finally managed through his coughs, which confirmed her suspicions. His eyes were narrowed at the amused expression Mrs. Briefs had on display, and his fist was clenched so tightly that his knuckles were now a pale shade of white. The blonde grandmother only nodded, gracing the saiyan to continue in confidentiality. "She said I had to..." His teeth were grit. His eyes were wide, the lids quivering as he shifted his weight again. _God, he hated this. He really, really did!_

"Yes, sweetie? What did she say?"

"Damnit!" His fists banged down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle. "I told her I want to call her my wife, and she said no! Do you understand?! She said NO! I want to know WHY!"

"… Oh."

Easing back into his seat, Vegeta was fuming with the exertion of his confession. His shoulders were tense, and his typically chiseled cheeks were now red and poofy. He was staring down at the table, like a child awaiting to be lectured for something naughty they had done. It took Mrs. Briefs a moment to register what he had just admitted to, because he said it in such a strange way. And when she finally realized _just_ what this all meant, his hostile demeanor was the only thing that kept her from jumping for joy. The saiyan really did look like a young boy who had just admitted to a horrible wrongdoing, and it was because he had been rejected of a marriage proposal? What a romantic little - oh – _goodness!_ She could feel her arms quivering with the desire to just take him into a tight hug! How happy she was to know that Vegeta cared so deeply for her daughter! "Well that's odd, dear. Bulma never mentioned anything about a proposal to me." She was _really_ smiling now! Wow - he wanted to _marry_ her daughter!

She just couldn't believe it! And he was coming to her for advice?

_What a dear!_

"It was last night. I told her I want her to be my wife, and she said no." Vegeta wasn't avoiding eye contact with Mrs. Briefs, so he couldn't see how excited she was. All he could do was repeat this fact out loud, almost as if trying to process it, himself. He didn't want to admit that there was no formal proposal – not the way Mrs. Briefs assumed there was. And he _really_ didn't want to admit that he didn't even know what all an Earth proposal entailed.

"Just like that?" Mrs. Briefs giggled. "Oh, honey, it's so simple! If that's how you proposed, then that's the problem! That is not the way to do this!"

 _'Yes, that's what Bulma said.'_ The saiyan thought, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Every girl wants to be swept off her feet during proposals! Don't you know that, V?"

"I don't see why!" God - he hated this. He really, _really_ hated this. More so with each second that passed. Curse these Earth women – and their expectations - for putting him in such an emasculating position. _Curse them!_

"You don't see why? Well, what about where you come from? Didn't they have weddings and engagements there? Let's think about this, honey."

"In case you missed the announcement, I was a child the last time I saw my planet, and I obviously had no interest in the activities of the mating traditions. The adults I interacted with and could have learned from were all below me, anyway! But what I do remember was much different than the ridiculous customs found on this stupid planet." Vegeta was now on the defense, and it showed. "We had no concept of _husband_ nor _wife_ , as you people put so much emphasis on. We only had _mates_ , and that was all we needed. When the time came, we selected an exclusive mate."

"Eugh..." Mrs. Briefs couldn't hide the twisting of her face at that description.

"Do not scoff, Woman." Vegeta, who was starting to feel less vulnerable now that he was the one doing the educating, was amused by Mrs. Briefs. She could really be so simple minded! "Things were much more straightforward on my planet. You people would do well to take note of that. When one decided they wanted to make a female their mate, all they needed to do was claim her."

"Uh… _Claim_ her?! Well, how sweet!" Mrs. Briefs, who decided she had heard enough, felt the need to sarcastically interrupt before the saiyan had a chance to go into even more disgusting detail. She was already regretting her decision to ask him what the tradition was on his native planet. "Honey, I'll let you in on something. Us women - and _especially_ Bulma – erm… We don't like to be _claimed_."

"Evidently, not."

"Sweetie, you need to make Bulma feel like this is as much her decision as it is yours. And she's gonna want to be able to look back on this moment for the rest of her life and feel proud of it. It can't just be a normal conversation! Like I said, sweep her off her feet. Do somethin' special that'll remind her how lucky and unique _she_ is."

"Oh..." Vegeta resented that he was having to have this conversation so close and personal with Mrs. Briefs. Why didn't he try to do this over the phone system? He wished he could hide his face, and she was looking at him with such soft eyes! As if he were some kind of cuddly kitten! "What do you-"

"You wanna know what I suggest? Well, there's something you should know about Bulma."

Something new to know about Bulma? Well, he _had_ to hear this. The saiyan's dark eyes became slightly less hostile as he leaned forward in his seat - which caused another giggle to erupt from Mrs. Briefs.

"Before she met you and became a mom, Bulma was a bit of a wild child. Especially in her teens, _ugh._ That girl could not sit still _at all_. She was always ditching school to go off somewhere, always gettin' in trouble with her teachers. She was always running away from home, too, and for weeks on end! She'd leave to go explore other cities, and we could not get control over that little fireball. You know how young she was when she first went off for those Dragon Balls? Why - Bulma's always had a hunger for adventure!"

Hm…

The saiyan was smirking at the idea of a smaller Bluehead storming out of a building while flipping the bird at some hysterical professor. He was intrigued! Vegeta certainly had to admit that in her adulthood she definitely put more focus on Trunks than she did on anything else. Though, in his eyes, she still _was_ a fireball. She was hotheaded and bigmouthed, and she never cut herself short of anything. Constantly presenting herself as a challenge, the saiyan prince was always on his toes when it came to the Bluehead. It was just that now she was simply more... _routine._

"So, you know what? Take that into consideration! Bulma still had a travel bug in her up until she met you. It only went away when she had Trunks, and lemme tell ya, I don't think it was easy for her. Did you ever notice how depressed she seemed when he was a newborn? I think she missed the fast life, and it was hard to give that up! But, you know, she needed to grow up for her baby, and she did that! Oh - I'm so proud of her! She's such a good mama! So anyway, take her back to that for a day! Remind her of what it was like to not have all these responsibilities! Make her feel like she's on top of the world, and _then_ propose. But make sure you _ask_ her to marry you - don't just demand it! She won't like it if you tell her what to do."

"Right." Well, that was much more helpful than he could have anticipated. Vegeta was still unsure of what to do about the Bluehead, but at least he now knew where to begin with his brainstorming. Not to mention the fact that he had a new perspective of the woman that was Bulma Briefs... The saiyan knew that the Bluehead had been extremely emotional when she became pregnant with child, but he had attributed all of that to the fights and disagreements that had occurred between them. There had been more going on with her than just that?

When Trunks was born, Vegeta had been reluctant to face the concept of fatherhood. In fact - it terrified him. But Bulma had always been so stern and acted as if parenthood had been the only natural course of action. Did it really scare her more than she let on? Had she been just as daunted by all of this as he had been? Was he an asshole for assuming that she was perfectly happy with the situation, and perhaps had even conceived the boy on purpose?

Kami - if modern Bulma wasn't tough enough as it was! Young Bulma sounded like an absolute badass! Vegeta was now regretting that he hadn't allowed himself to get to know the Woman more before Trunks had been born. She had tried several times, and he had always done his own part to push her away. He'd encountered her briefly on Namek, but all he had really known of her was what she was around the house, and how stunning she was, and how protective he had been of her - even against his own judgment. But, had he involved himself more, he might have gotten to see more of the adventurous side that Mrs. Briefs was describing. Now her life revolved solely around her job and Trunks, and the saiyan was becoming excited to change that. If only for a day or two, he would make her see more... If travel and adventure was something that Bulma secretly craved, then he was going to give her just that. All he needed to do was figure out what exactly that would be, and _when_ it was going to happen...

Mrs. Briefs could tell she had said something to resonate with him, and because of this she allowed a sigh of excitement. This act alone was not enough to satisfy her, though. She had been holding in her reaction long enough, and now it was time to let it all out. "Oh! V!" Her chair squeaked as she pushed herself back from the table. "I can't wait until you're officially my SON! Oh! I'm gonna start buying wedding magazines right now! I know Bulma doesn't like planning events, but I'll make sure she gets excited about this! And her dress will-"

"I told you not to touch me!" Vegeta screamed, and it sounded more like a wail. Mrs. Briefs had run around the table and thrown herself onto his lap, squeezing him in for a tight hug. "Get off me!"

"I will, darling, but just let me have this for a bit. You're such a _dear!_ A cute, sweet, beautiful _dear!"_

"Retract that statement this instant!" His voice was curling, and it actually sounded as if he was going to cry. "You - you take that BACK!"

.

Nearly two months went by after Vegeta's conversation with Bulma, and throughout this time the subject of marriage was not brought up again. Trunks was becoming more than a full-time job, his attitude and comebacks growing more witty by the day. As a result Bulma was starting to rather enjoy her time as work, since it served as a break from the exhausting act of chasing her son all around the house – and listening to his arguments.

It was true that the subject of engagements or weddings had not come up again since the night of Trunks' birthday party, and Bulma hadn't done anything to change that. Surely it wasn't that she had forgotten about the conversation. It had taken her days to calm down after the occurrence, and she'd spent quite a few baths thinking the entire thing through as she soaked. The thought of Vegeta actually suggesting such a thing made her heart race, but as soon as her mood started to rise with giddiness, it would very quickly drop. She'd already told him that she understood if he was not up to par with all of Earth's customs and traditions, but if Vegeta was actually serious about such a thing as marriage then why wouldn't he have done something more than just yell at her about it in their bedroom? Surely, even for saiyan standards, that would have to be quite low. And the man had acted as if nothing happened after that, his demeanor nor conversations shifting in the slightest. It was as if he'd said it just to see how she would react, and he wasn't taking anything she'd brought up with regard.

If he had TRULY wanted this, like he had so thoughtfully barked, then wouldn't he have tried again? Or at least acknowledged that her point about deserving a better proposal was true? She knew it wasn't like him to apologize so easily. But even if he felt he had done nothing wrong, wouldn't he have told her that much? Wouldn't he have done _something?_

… _Anything?_

It was clear that, whatever it was that happened between them two months ago, it hadn't been anything more than a very confusing chat. And so, eventually, Bulma was able to chalk it up to just that. She was a bit miffed by the matter, but once she made this conclusion it was easy enough to forget about. Especially when she had so much going on in her life. For instance, the Bluehead was cursing herself as she drove home from work one Friday afternoon, because she knew she would have to stay up all night to finalize a report she had promised to her father. Somehow, in spite of her "Type A" nature in the office, she had managed to assume that the deadline hadn't been for another two weeks…

"What was I thinking?!" She howled as she closed in on her residence, the dome-shaped building drawing closer ahead. Her palm slammed down on the steering wheel, but this did nothing to make her feel better. "Bulma, you IDIOT! You're so stupid, stupid, stupid!"

The verbal lashing she was laying on herself hadn't subsided by the time she landed her hover car, and the Bluehead was still scolding herself as she stormed into the house. "You're going to get no sleep now - and for what?! This is all YOUR fault, you _idiot!"_

"What did I do?" A deep voice uttered, and Bulma didn't bother looking Vegetqa's way as she threw her keys down on the kitchen counter. "You really _suck_ sometimes, Bulma!"

"Woman."

"Not _now_ , Vegeta! Gah! I spent all week looking forward to going home on Friday evening to have a long bath, and now look! I'll be spending the next 60 hours preparing a-"

"Woman, stop."

"This really sucks! Why did I tell myself I had until next week to start?! I've been so busy with-"

"WOMAN!"

Bulma was in the process of pulling open the refrigerator door so she could prepare a quick meal before locking herself up in the home office for the rest of the night. But the saiyan had swooped in from behind, wrapped an arm around her waist, and forcefully whisked her away from the kitchen appliance. "Stop talking, Woman!"

"Vegeta - what the -"

"You aren't going to he do anything of the sort tonight. _I_ want to go out." The saiyan was pulling her out of the kitchen, her heels dragging across the tiled floor as she gasped. "Did you listen to what I just said? I can't-!"

"YOU are coming with me, and whatever you have going on at that repulsive office can wait."

"I promised my-"

"I saw your father earlier today when I dropped Trunks off. He knows that I want to go out, and he did not mention any reason for you not to." They were in the living room now, and Vegeta shoved Bulma down on her favorite couch. Her body bounced under the springs of the cushions, an act that effectively worked in knocking her out of the neurotic rant she'd been so focused on. "Wait a minute! _You…_ Going out?! Since when-"

"I am tired of confining myself within these walls all day while you run off to indulge in _whatever-it-is_ you do at your father's business. I want to go out and find relief from such monotony, and you're coming with me. Understand?"

"Stop interrupting me!" Bulma spat, but it was hard to argue with that. She was taken aback by this uncharacteristic demand, and the idea of a night out with Vegeta was too rare and endearing to pass up. "If you're serious, then sure. But I need to talk to my Dad first. Just so you know, he'll be pissed with me for dropping the ball on this project. I'll go if he tells me not to worry about it - but that's definitely _not_ happening."

"Fine by me." The saiyan waved his hand towards a random wall. "Why bother calling him - let's just go over there and discuss matters face-to-face."

"Of all days to decide you don't want to be a hermit." The Bluehead sighed, but there was a grin on her lips. She allowed the saiyan to take her by the hand and pull her to her feet, and then the two were off to pay her parents a visit next door.

"Right." What she said was true. Vegeta didn't find any offense in her accurate observation, but he did have his comeback ready. "Of all days, you had to pick _today_ to decide you want to work yourself mad."

"I do that every day, Vegeta."

"No kidding."

.

"Are you kidding me?!" Bulma was flabbergasted. Mr. Briefs was easy-going and doting as a father, but he was also an entrepreneur who had spent the majority of his life building his world renowned empire. The Bluehead had received her work ethic and her temper from her old man, though her short fuse expanded far outside the realm of work. She had been expecting to receive a bit of a tongue-lashing and a lecture on how she was _"raised better than to lose track of deadlines",_ and she had been fully prepared to tell Vegeta "I told you so".

But, even after Bulma explained her grave mistake, all Mr. Briefs did was laugh. "Oh, my dear, that was taken care of weeks ago! You've been so busy and I knew you'd forget about it until the last minute! So, I had a few assistants work overtime to help me with that instead."

"You WHAT?!" The Bluehead nearly fell back. She was so relieved that she wanted to run to her father and jump in his arms, as if she were a small schoolgirl again. Yet she was also pissed. "I was freaking out today, DAD! You didn't think it was important to make sure I knew it was taken care of? I was going to work all-!"

"Woman, he told you not to worry about it." Vegeta cut in. He was standing right behind Bulma, and she could hear the laugh in his voice. It went without saying that he was the one thinking _'I told you so.'_

"Don't be so nutty, my girl! I didn't want to bother you with it. I already told Vegeta that you shouldn't worry about work this weekend. I saw him earlier today. " The old man's mustache was bouncing as he spoke, and he was chuckling with every two words that left his mouth. He was so used to his daughter's temper by now that he hardly took note when she yelled. "If he wants to go out, then have fun!"

"Well, I just..."

"Woman, I'm growing impatient. Are you ready to go yet?"

Slack jawed, Bulma turned from one man to the other. What _was_ all of this?! Vegeta wanting to spend a night on the town seemed too good to be true, and her father had actually done her a favor? Usually he had the habit of piling work on her desk, telling her that if anyone could do it, she'd be the one. So, what was this?

… What... on...?

Before she could finish the thought, Vegeta had the Bluehead by the wrist and was pulling her towards the basement stairs. "Let's go, already!" He grumbled. All she could do was nod, a goofy smile stretching across her features as the excitement began to stew. Mr. Briefs waved his daughter a cheerful "goodbye", and that was the last Bulma saw of him before she was ushered up into the main room.

… Mrs. Briefs had enough self awareness to know that she was not a good actress. The last thing she wanted to do was make Bulma any more suspicious than she predictably already was. And so, as soon as she heard the couple walk into the house to speak with Mr. Briefs, she ran upstairs with Trunks to barricade them both in her bedroom until the young couple left. It was for this reason that Bulma didn't get the slightest chance to speak to her mother, nor her son, before she left with the saiyan - and she certainly didn't commence on their trip quietly...

"Okay, now WHAT is really going on?!"

Vegeta had just led the Bluehead into her father's garage, and was calmly strolling towards the spaceship that was sitting so prominently in the center of the room. He shrugged as he approached the giant morsel, refusing to acknowledge his Woman's question - or that anything happening was out of the ordinary, for that matter. "Are you coming or not?"

She was so curious that she obediently scampered into the ship as the saiyan impatiently held the door open for her. "I mean it, Vegeta. What are we doing in here?"

"I _keep_ telling you we're going out." The saiyan's tone was flat. And he was still acting _so_ damned calm, too! As soon as Bulma entered the ship he slammed the door shut behind her. Without another word he made for the control panel, which was located at the far end of the main room. He took a seat before pulling on a lever that brought the engines to life. "Are you going to secure yourself, or will you just stand there like a fool until your body is thrown from a window during takeoff?"

"I-" Bulma started, but her words faded fast. The engines were growing louder as she stood by the door. Feeling dumb, she made a dash for the couch that was laying in the middle of the main room. All of the furniture in the spaceship was bolted to the floor to ensure that nothing would slide ajar during flight. The Bluehead fished out a seatbelt that was hidden inside the cushions, strapping them across her waist.

Once this was done, Vegeta took no hesitation in taking off. He didn't even bother to ask if she was ready. "Finally!" He growled as he clicked a few buttons and pulled another level down from its neutral position. The spaceship reared back and took aim as the roof of the garage began to slide open to allow clearance for takeoff. And then, a moment later, they were shooting up into the sky. Bulma couldn't help but smile at the changing force of pressure, her body being pulled tightly into the couch as they rose. This was the first time Vegeta was driving her anywhere, and the way he maneuvered vehicles matched his personality perfectly. So far, his handling of the ship had been quick and straight to the point It was a surge for the body to adjust to such drastically shifting speeds, but Bulma was rather enjoying the experience. Her heart was pounding with adrenaline as the spaceship peaked through the atmosphere, increasing in momentum with every meter. It only took a few seconds for all light peering in through the windows to disappear completely, and the Bluehead knew they were in space.

A low humming sound came from the depths of the ship as the internal pressure was adjusted to accommodate the change of gravity. With that, so did the sensation of quick speed dissipate. It now felt as if they weren't moving at all and were merely floating, although Bulma very well knew the ship was actively wafting even further away from her home planet with every breath she took. She was grinning as she looked over to her prince, feeling as if she'd just finished riding an intense roller coaster and was about to step off at the loading station. " _Finally!"_ Vegeta sighed as he unstrapped himself from the captain's chair.

"So..." The Bluehead replied. There would be no turning back now – they were officially embarking on some trip that she knew absolutely nothing of, and her curiosity was peaked. "You wanna tell me what all of this is about, yet?"

"You ask too many questions." The saiyan was making his way towards the kitchen, which was really just a few appliances that had been shoved into a corner of the main room, along with a few cabinets and a countertop. "Perhaps you should stop interrogating everything I do. And stop making so many assumptions, while you're at it! You decided I wanted to spend an evening in the city, but when did I ever say that? I told you I wanted to go _out._ I never said _where._ "

"Well, I'm asking you now. Where are we going?"

"Anywhere **_I_** want." Vegeta was fishing for something in one of the cabinets. "I've been wanting to go explore for quite some time, Woman. I had your father upgrade this vessel so it'll arrive to destinations quicker than before."

"Yeah, well our technology has grown quite a bit since the last time this ship was used."

"Precisely. And now that it won't take me several months just to travel, I want to test the ship out. I want to visit a few places I know of." He was now walking across the living room. Vegeta was carrying a bottle of chardonnay in one hand, an empty glass in the other. He took a seat at the armchair perpendicular to where Bulma was sitting before finally popping open the bottle.

"This is exactly why I wanted to know." The Bluehead protested, eying the saiyan's drink as he poured himself a glass. "Who knows how long we'll be gone, and we don't even have Trunks!"

"The boy will be fine with your parents." Vegeta kicked his feet onto the coffee table as he reclined back into his chair. "He's used to being with them."

"We need to go back. I want my son."

"Woman, relax." The saiyan took a slow sip from his glass. There was something incredibly comforting about the idea of drifting through the dark universe that he was so accustomed to. Almost as if visiting an old friend that he hadn't spoken to in ages, a peaceful excitement was building inside as he sipped down his fancy Earth drink. This felt _good._ "Really, Woman. I already told you that I had your father upgrade the system in preparation for this trip. I have spoken to the boy many times while you've been working, and he is aware that we will be gone. He was rather excited for us to leave, actually. Evidently your mother promised him a trip to that theme park while we're away."

"He may be okay being separated from me, but _I'm_ not!" Panic was starting the set in as the Bluehead thought grimly about how far away her baby boy was, and how long it would be until she could hold him again. Kami - what was Vegeta _thinking?_ He was telling her to relax, but how could she when she'd left one of her biggest passions back home?! She felt as if a limb had just been chopped off!

"Neither of us have had a break since the boy was born." Vegeta was grumbling now. "I've made it a goal that we will both get something out of this trip. I will keep us for as long as it takes."

Bulma bit her lip at this. For all intents and purposes, had her boyfriend just _kidnapped_ her? And, of course, she knew that he was being serious. Where the motivation for all of this was coming from, she had no idea. But there was no doubt that he really _would_ keep them on this ship until she admitted defeat, just to prove a point. Vegeta kept telling her to calm down, stop asking questions, and had even ordered her to relax. If that was what he wanted, she'd be able to get home again sooner if she just obliged. Or, at least, if she _pretended to..._

"Maybe you're right." She shrugged. "But what am I supposed to do? I could have at least packed some things to keep me occupied. I'm _already_ bored."

"I keep telling you this has been weeks in the making." The saiyan had already finished his glass and was pouring himself another. "I have taken the liberty of making sure you'll have things to do."

"Great!" Bulma stood and began to make her way to the bedroom that had been built into the ship. "Tell me where my workstation is. I can get caught up on a lot of things while-"

"I forbade any work to be done while we're out, Woman, and I made this clear with your father." The saiyan was smirking now, listening to the Bluehead exploring as he swirled his drink in his glass. He was in complete control over this situation, and he was loving it. "You have those silly magazines you put so much energy into reading, and you have your other essentials."

 _Other essentials,_ of course, was the vague term that Vegeta used to describe normal pass-times that anyone might enjoy. He used the phrase nearly every day when he spoke to the Bluehead and happened to walk in on her during the few breaks she would allow herself throughout the day. When she wasn't chasing Trunks around or doing chores around the house, the saiyan knew he could always count on walking into the living room to see the Bluehead stretched out on the couch as she filled in a crossword puzzle, flipped through a fashion magazine, or even yelled at some bizarre show she was watching on TV. _"At it again with your other essentials?"_ Vegeta would always grump, and Bulma would roll her eyes while trying to mask the smile that would always manage to break through. _"Of course."_

Now he had used the term again, and an enthusiastic gasp was heard from across the ship. "My video games!" Loud footsteps clapped on the floor, and soon Bulma had reappeared in front of the saiyan. She was happily waving a handheld gaming device in the air, as if it was a hard-earned trophy. "I'll have enough time to start from the beginning! It's been forever since I've been able to get invested in any of these!"

"I know." Vegeta was feigning a bored yawn, even though he was secretly thrilled that she was finally exhibiting signs of letting loose. "My point exactly."

"And my books! I've been dying for a chance to start on the exact ones you brought! How did you know?!"

"I find it insulting that you assume I don't take observation of your goals."

"Well... I'm still not happy about this being schemed behind my back." The Bluehead said this, yet she was doing a terrible job at masking her delight. The woman hadn't once stopped smiling since she came sprinting out of the side room. She walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a glass that was identical to Vegeta's, before returning to retrieve the half-full bottle of chardonnay.

"Be careful with that, Woman. Your tolerance is laughable."

"It's gotten better." Bulma frowned as she poured herself a small drink. "You know I've been having a glass of wine with all of my Friday evening baths. I've been building myself back up."

"Just be mindful."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Bulma's heart was still heavy with the desire to hold her son, but she truly was excited at the aspect of getting more rest and relaxation than she was accustomed to. The fact that she was being forced into this helped tremendously with her separation guilt. Bulma was on her way to run a bath and commence reading one of the many books that had been lingering on her _"to-do"_ list, but she made sure to stop by Vegeta's side first. Bending down, she planted an affectionate smack on his forehead before scurrying off to the bathroom.

Eying her rear as she disappeared, Vegeta could only smirk as she left him to himself. Kami, it felt _good_ to be in space again. The dark of the abyss was the environment he grew up knowing best. And, while he had much preferred to be alone during the majority of the time he'd spent here in his youth, what he was experiencing now was a rather pleasant change. How much better it felt to know that, not only was he _not_ going to be traveling alone, but he'd be doing this with his Woman, too!

The tub was now being filled in the other room, and Vegeta nodded before taking another sip from his glass. He was going to have to pay her a visit before she decided she was done soaking and got out of the tub. Yes, he rather fancied the idea of joining her in there. But she quite enjoyed long baths, and he knew he had time. So, he poured himself another glass before reclining back further and tucking an arm under his head.

It had been so intoxicating to see her smile the way she just had, and he was looking forward to seeing her do it again. _And again._ Hopefully there would be a lot of that going on during this trip...

The sound of water clapping as Bulma presumably stepped into the tub had the saiyan swigging down the remainder of his drink. He then kicked his feet off the table, lazily plopping his glass on its surface as he stood. The saiyan prince pulled his boots off before he began his strut towards the bathroom door.

He hadn't stop smirking since they left the Earth's atmosphere, and the promise of seeing what Bulma was up to only made him grin even more…

_This was going to be a great way to spend the next several weeks._


	49. Feeling Adventurous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who followed my tumblr, surelysaiyangood. :)
> 
> Also, thanks for being patient as I worked to get this chapter out!

* * *

 

The only way that Bulma was able to keep track of time was by monitoring the clock in the main room, which had been calibrated to display what hour it was back in West City. She kept notes in one of her journals, and if all was accurate then she knew they had been in flight for nearly five days… An entire business week had passed, and she hadn't gotten to see her son or hear from her parents at all. How surreal it felt to think this, when on the spaceship it seemed as if time itself had frozen as soon as they took off. With nothing but darkness to swallow their ship, there was no concept of the passage of time. If Bulma didn't know any better, she could have easily thought it had been years. Likewise, it equally felt as if it had only been twenty minutes. The only physical indicator that any seconds were ticking at all was the restlessness that would develop in her legs and radiate up to her mind on occasion.

The Bluehead had been reading one of her books, but inside there was that same urgency building - the desire to get up and move around. At the same time, however, she was feeling lazier than ever from having done nothing but lay about for five days. Frankly, it was a strange and conflicting condition to be in, and it was slowly starting to drive her stir crazy. Wiping a yawn from her eyes, Bulma threw the blankets off her body before sitting up in bed. "Ahhh!" She wheezed loudly, an unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn as she outstretched her arms over her head.

"You make a lot of noise." Vegeta commented from across the room, where he was standing in front of a mirror as he inspected the muscles on his bicep. He was clad only in a pair of boxers and a black wifebeater undershirt, looking over his body after one of his strenuous workouts.

"I'm bored!" The Bluehead announced, watching the saiyan with eyes glazed over. "There's nothing to do on this ship, and I'm getting really bored."

"You have your things." The saiyan grunted. He flexed his arm, looked at it, and smiled with approval. Evidently, he had made some type of progress. "Play your video game, if you must."

"Yeah, but I'm tired of just sitting around nonstop. I want to move. I can't just stay in the same place all the time."

"What are you talking about? Isn't that what you do all day when you go off to that lab?" The saiyan glanced over his shoulder as stepped back from the mirror, shooting the Bluehead an incredulous look.

"Well... yeah... but... I still get to stand up and walk around at work. I have a window that lets me see the sun, too. And then I also get to leave after a few hours to go home, sometimes I go out for lunch…" Now it was Vegeta's turn for his eyes to glaze over, but the Bluehead quickly took notice and snapped out of her ramble. "…So anyway, how I spend my work days is way different from this."

"You should be glad your father upgraded this ship." Vegeta was shaking his head. Even though he was acting as if he found the Bluehead's complaints irritating, there was an amused tone in his voice. "We'll arrive in a few hours, and this would have taken weeks if we had made the trip a few years ago. You wouldn't have been able to handle it."

"Well, excuse me!" This was enough to motivate Bulma to finally stand from the bed. "Don't talk to me like I'm naive. I did travel to Namek, ya know!"

"Believe me, I know…" He smirked, and it was enough to bring the threat of a blush to her cheeks. He said it as if her presence had changed his life... "Traveling all the way to Namek, Bulma… I can't imagine what that must have been like." He was actually grinning now. "Being stuck in a small ship with you during a trip like that..."

"It was long and boring, but I made it out just fine!" She turned her nose up to the ceiling, trying to make sure he knew she wasn't one to condescend - even if it was just a joke. The subject of Namek was bringing up a large amount of memories, as well as the desire to press Vegeta on what his first impression of her was. Yet Bulma quickly remembered something the saiyan had just said, and she found herself growing so curious that it became her priority to ask. "Hey… Did you say we'll be landing in just a few hours?"

"Yeah. We'll be on Zirkon soon enough."

"Okay..." The Bluehead replied, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Vegeta had spoken so casually of the matter, as if she had any reason to know what exactly Zirkon was. She stepped towards the saiyan as he began pulling his undershirt off. "What are we gonna do there?"

"Visit. We need to get ready." The half-naked saiyan handed Bulma his shirt, wordlessly asking her to put it away for him. Now, this she really did roll her eyes at! But still she obliged, crossing the room to the clothes basin. "Why are we visiting?" She pressed, starting to feel frustrated that he wasn't offering more of an explanation on his own.

"Because I want to. When I was in my youth and fulfilling missions with Raditz and Nappa, Zirkon was a common stop we'd make when we were in the area."

"You make it sound like a gas station." Bulma frowned. "What would you guys do there?"

"Recuperate. Sleep and eat, mostly. We'd use the opportunity to take a break for a few days before returning to Frieza's base." Vegeta was frowning back. "Now stop asking so many questions, and get ready."

"What does that even mean? I _am_ ready!"

"Not dressed like that, you aren't."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Bulma looked down to study herself, temporarily having forgotten what she was even wearing. Her pale legs were freshly shaved and nearly glistening in the room's lighting. They looked pretty good. What was wrong with her outfit?

"You're practically naked." The saiyan, who had started the conversation by teasing her, was rather serious now. "You can't go out like that."

"What?" Bulma looked back down at herself, her eyebrows furrowing as she took in her tight shorts and a small vintage shirt. She thought she looked rather cute, and definitely not naked... "Is that what you think of how I dress, then?! Well, the cat's out of the bag, now, and there's nothing wrong with-!"

"I like your choice of fashion." Vegeta, who was used to her easily dented ego, was quick to cut her off. In an instant he had appeared right in front of where she stood, and he had a hand on her shoulder as if to calm her. "The way you dress has always been endearing to me, and that's exactly why I want you covering up. Believe it or not, but not every planet has the same customs for clothing as yours does. We're going to stand out regardless, but I'd rather it not be due to your clothes... If you don't mind."

"If it means dictating what I wear, then I do mind!" She had her hands on her hips, but the defensive curl in her voice was softening at what he said.

"Okay… Let's put it this way..." He cocked his head to the side. Vegeta was staring into Bulma's eyes now, and she couldn't remember the last time he looked so serious when speaking to her. "I have been rather good about domesticating myself to Earth practices, have I not? Well we are in space now, Bulma, and you cannot hold me responsible if I am forced to slip back into old methods."

This had obviously been some sort of a threat, but it wasn't enough to bother the Bluehead. "Hm!" She replied as she crossed her arms, her way of wordlessly saying _'I dare you.'_

"What I mean by that is… If you want to disregard my advice and dress however you want, then feel free. But in doing so, you are surrendering any right you have to be upset with me when we are out in public and I am forced to slaughter an entire species after hearing their heart rates speed up while looking at you."

"I..." Bulma paused. She wanted to call the saiyan's bluff, but he was being too stern for her to safely assume he even was bluffing. "You wouldn't really do that?"

"I have a reputation that must be maintained..." His eyebrows furrowed. "Look. You are my woman, and anyone who even thinks about doing anything to you-"

"Okay, okay." It was hard to keep arguing when he was wording things like that, Bulma rolled her eyes. She was giving in to the saiyan's request, but she still turned her back to him so he couldn't see her smile. Because, in a really morbid way, what he said was kind of flattering… "Gee, look at Mister Protective all the sudden."

"Act modest all you want." Vegeta watched as she became the one to pull her shirt off over her head. "My instincts towards making sure you are safe are anything but new."

.

Perhaps their conversation had passed more time than Bulma thought, or perhaps her concept of time itself was more distorted than she realized. But it seemed that as soon as she found an outfit that Vegeta approved of he was telling her that it was time to prepare for landing. Clad in what she could only describe as a pair "Mom Jeans" 2 sizes too big and a rather baggy shirt, Bulma jumped at the announcement. She was so curious that she wanted to run to the front of the ship to get a look at the approaching planet, but she also didn't care to be told to sit down twice. She hopped to her couch, clicked herself in, and waited patiently for the process to be over.

When the ship landed with a surprisingly light thud, Vegeta gave the Bluehead a nod to indicate that it was okay to unfasten herself. Bulma let out an excited squeal as she darted from the couch, finding the closest window and peering outside. "It..." She started, her face dropping thoughtfully…

…She wasn't quite sure what she had expected, but she had thought this planet would have been one of two very different things. With hardly any experience with extraterrestrial travel, the image she had managed to conjure had been an exact replica of Namek. That, or knowing Vegeta's brutal past, she had pictured something dark and cold - the environment she expected from Frieza's ship. What she saw, instead, was an overwhelming amount of dark green.

She wasn't looking at grass, for what she was staring at had been a cluster of vines and leafy trees that were at eye level. Had they landed in some type of uncharted forest? She could make out what looked like a light pink wall that was peeking out in blotches from behind the green vinery, and Bulma wondered what type of building it was that they had landed in front of.

"Ready?" Vegeta grunted, his voice so close behind that Bulma jumped and spun around. _"Wahh!"_

"What's wrong with you?" The saiyan had been standing directly behind her, a large navy suitcase in his hand.

"You startled me!" She hissed, eying the luggage.

"Well, who else would it have been?" He was scowling, and Bulma didn't feel that it was necessary to explain just how distracted she'd let herself grow as she studied what was outside. "Lets go, Woman. Make sure you capsulize the ship as soon as we step out."

"Bulma." She corrected. In recent months Vegeta had gotten a lot better at referring to her by her first name, but he still had his slip ups every now and then. She walked over to a nearby cabinet and fished an empty capsule out from it. "Is the air safe for me to breathe?"

"If it wasn't, I would have taken that into mind." He seemed so careless when he said this, as if it had been a passing thought, but still the Bluehead found his reply to be sufficient enough for her. She shrugged and followed Vegeta's lead, as he pushed open the ship's door and stepped out into the foreign soil. The first thing that Bulma did was immediately capsulize the ship - just as the saiyan had advised her to do. The second thing she did was turn to get a better look at her surroundings, and her lips parted with excited wonder as she did so. "Oh, wow..."

She was surrounded by those green plants, every which way she looked. The vines that were decorating the wall she'd seen extended all the way down to the ground, but that was where they ended. There were no roots or leaves covering the soil at all! It almost appeared as if someone had gone through and cleared them away, as if to create room to walk. And now that she was looking, Bulma realized just how un-dirty the ground itself looked. It wasn't any type of soil she would have come to expected, but instead it appeared to be some type of rose colored stone. Bulma cocked her head back and looked up to see what color the sky was, and that was when she really gasped.

There was no sky up above, nor even a view of the empty depths of space they'd just come from. All she saw was a ceiling made up of the same rose colored material, and that was when Bulma realized that they were standing INSIDE some building, after all! But how?! Did this place have a retractable roof like the one her garage had? Was this some kind of landing dock?

Before Bulma had any time to ask all of the questions that were now hounding her, she became acutely aware of an unsettling slithering noise. It sounded as if some large snake was slowly making its way towards them, and instantaneously Bulma went from being excited to on edge. She stepped closer to Vegeta, who was looking as if he was waiting for something on his own, and she put a hand to his arm.

Feeling slightly more bold now that she was pressing into the saiyan prince's body, Bulma decided to look for the source of the noise. Vegeta was already looking towards it, so Bulma slowly followed his gaze, and what she saw was so unexpected that she let out a scream.

Up ahead was a creature, the likes of which she couldn't describe even if she wanted to. It was tall enough to reach her waist, as wide as the coffee table back at her house, and it was coming right for her. Its body resembled an octopus, with slimly looking scales the color of blood, and so many tentacles that she couldn't even count. It had the demonic face on an angler fish, though, and sharp yellow teeth were hanging from its lips as it advanced on the saiyan and the Bluehead.

"What is that? WHAT IS THAT?!" The Bluehead wailed. As the creature slithered closer, one of its bright red tentacles began to ooze towards them. "WAH!" Startled, she jumped back and clung to the closest thing she could, which happened to be Vegeta's body. Her legs wrapped around his torso, and Bulma was hugging the saiyan as if he was a tree she'd just climbed as she looked back at the creature in horror.

" **Stupid lady.** " The horrifying red blob slurred. During her stumbling, Bulma had managed to kick the suitcase out of Vegeta's hand, and now the slimy creature was wrapping a particularly gross tentacle around its handle. " **Where'd you find this one? She can't even conceal her fear**." His voice was lazy, gruff, and deep, as if the thing had spent its entire life chain smoking. Yet he formed his words as if he had an infinite amount of life experience and this conversation was a waste of his time. Bulma couldn't help but think the monster sounded like a bitter old cab driver that wanted to retire.

Never one for public displays of affection, Vegeta's body had gone stiff when Bulma jumped on him. He was standing so still as she squeezed him, and he was growling under his breath. The Bluehead could tell that he was trying to restrain from screaming at her to get off him, but she didn't care. She hugged him even tighter, reluctant to let go. Not with the threat of that red tentacle monster touching her!

Neither Vegeta nor Bulma had responded to the creature, so he spoke again. " **Seems like a waste, if you ask me...** " His voice was so irritably unenergetic that his words slowly dragged out as if he were trying to decide if they were even worth the energy to utter. The Bluehead thought it would have been fitting if the thing had a giant cigar hanging from its mouth as it spoke. " **What a joke... the Prince of all fucking saiyans... showing up with a dimwit on his shoulder.. Tell me… do you feed her crackers when she does something good?** "

"Hey!" The Bluehead replied, and she finally jumped back down to her feet at that. "I'm the smartest girl around, I'll have you know!"

 **"...Sure seems like a flex to me, but do go on..."** The red thing retorted, ever so casually.

"Lathzar..." The saiyan growled now, the threat laced through his teeth.

" **Yeah, yeah, I'm going... I'm going... And he's just as impatient as ever...** "

Bulma watched as the creature, who apparently was named Lathzar, began to lift the bag over its head. Her eyes widened with curiosity - those small little tentacles were much stronger than they looked. Feeling awkward and wanting to ease some of the tension, the Bluehead decided to try and make small talk. Unsure of what to say, she ended up settling on the only commonality she could think of that the two had. "So, uh... You speak English, then?"

" **No, I speak Granthcke. _You're_ the one speaking English, lady...** " He was turned away from her, but she could imagine his eyes slowly rolling to the back of his plump head as he spoke. " **...Or are you too stupid to know... what language you're even speaking... idiot**." Lathzar was making a clicking sound now.

"Shut up, you." Vegeta warned again. "Just take the damned bag and go."

" **Whatever Vegeta says, Vegeta gets... Sure could do a lot better, though... if you ask me...** " The creature was slowly oozing away now, the suitcase still being held up in the air. Bulma watched as a thin layer of goo trailed from where Lathzar had slid, and her face turned. "Erm… How... Uh." She put a hand to Vegeta's arm. "Vegeta, where do you know him from?"

" _She_ has been working at this inn since before I was born." The saiyan didn't seem off put by Lathzar's conduct in the slightest, but Bulma nearly fell back before gasping. "You mean Lathzar is a girl?!"

"Of course, Bulma!" Now he was whispering as if he was worried Lathzar would hear, and Vegeta turned to give her a look. "Don't act so exaggerated!"

"I'm just surprised!" She replied, lowering her voice as well. "I just-"

" _Just_ because the reproductive characteristics the females of Earth have are one way, doesn't mean that all living creatures are the same. Sexual traits aren't _universal_ , you know."

"No kidding!" The Bluehead was trying not to show it, but she was amazed. The word _universal_ took on an entirely new meaning in this case, and she couldn't help but grin at that. Perhaps it was naive of her to make such assumptions, and Bulma was quickly realizing that she was going to need to forget her own concept of reality if she was going to adjust to the parallels of space. The only way she was going to progress as a human was to keep an open mind and not compare everything to _her_ version of "normal". Conceptually speaking, was there even such a thing as normal? Of course she couldn't just make such assumptions - Vegeta was right! But still, Bulma felt she needed to try to say _something_ to try and feel less rude, so she dumbly said "Lathzar sure had the angry old taxi driver vibe, that's why I thought..."

"Forget about it. Just, come on." Vegeta took Bulma by the wrist, not caring to speak any more of the matter. He began to pull her through the lobby, effectively breaking her out of her focus. Now distracted, Bulma began to take in her surroundings all over again, and a grin stretched across her lips as she followed Vegeta's lead. They were winding through different large bushes and trees, all of which were green - but had no budding flowers to add color.

He pulled her around one tree in particular, and beyond it Bulma could see a large staircase. The steps were lined with a pearly white, instead of the soft rose that colored the floor, walls, and ceiling. It wasn't until Vegeta was taking his first step up that he finally let go of Bulma's hand so he could palm the railing instead. "Interesting that there's no elevator," She commented, still looking around in awe as they went. Did elevators not exist on this planet? Had that been a _human_ invention…?

"There is one." Vegeta replied. "I just prefer the exercise."

"Oh." She pursed her lips, feeling naive once more. There she was, comparing this planet to Earth and making presumptions all over again! She was going to need to work on opening her mind...

The saiyan was too focused on where he was going to bother offering any more chit chat than necessary, and Bulma was too transfixed at the prospect of being in such a new place to care. It wasn't until they were done climbing the stairs, walked down a hall, and were arriving at a door that Vegeta finally spoke. "I've never stayed in this room before..." He said, his palm pressing against a scanner that seemed to unlock the door. He was speaking as if he was unsure of what would be on the other side, and was trying to warn Bulma not to judge him for whatever she was about to see.

And then they stepped into the room, and Bulma's face lit up.

Inside there were just as many plants that lined the rest of the building she'd seen, although these were speckled with flowers of soft purple and pink. The floor was lined with a material that reminded Bulma of carpeting, a white base with golden swirls flowing throughout the fibers. "Wow, Vegeta..." She smiled, stepping deeper inside. Her mouth was wide open as she beamed, and she was looking from side to side as she went.

The Bluehead heard the door shut as the saiyan followed behind her, but he wasn't moving with as much enthusiasm as her. Instead he stood in the entryway and watched as Bulma, her eyes glowing with wonder, continued into the bathroom. "Oh, WOW!"

"See anything you like?" He smirked.

"Look, Vegeta!" She called. The room she was standing in was so bright. The floor, walls, and ceiling all seemed to have been carved out of marble. Some type of crystal was engraved in the material and was shimmering as light hit it. The purple and pink flowers were still growing out of the walls, but only by a few buds. They were certainly much less thick than they were in the main room. In front of her one of the walls had been cleared to make room for a giant window, which showed an impressive view of the land that the inn was built on.

This was the first time Bulma was getting to see the atmosphere of this planet, and she ran to the window to get as good of a look at possible. She had her hands pressed against the glass as she smiled at the scenery down below. An orange sky blanketed the landscape, and underneath she could see a sparkling ocean that was settling on top of a white sandy shore. There were countless huts and buildings that had been constructed all along the beach, each made with different architectural styles and materials. All of it looked misplaced with one another, and that was exactly what made it so enticing.

"It's so... _pretty._.." Bulma breathed when she heard Vegeta's footsteps walk in behind her. "Look at it!"

She got no response to her exclamation, and when Bulma turned around she saw that Vegeta was simply leaning against the doorframe with a smug look on his face. It was the expression he wore most, an unimpressed scowl that feigned boredom no matter what the circumstance was. Yet she could tell her wasn't bored - if anything, he was amused by her reactions. Clearly none of what Bulma was seeing was surprising to him, but she had expected that. After all, he _did_ say he'd spent a lot of time on this planet in his past.

"This room is so..." She continued, but then she paused. How _could_ she describe it? It was unconventionally beautiful, but all the vines and branches made it feel like anything _but_ a hotel. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? The Bluehead loved the unusualness of it, but she wasn't so sure how easy it would be to sleep or relax in. It was all too stimulating!

Her lingering words seemed to be misinterpreted by Vegeta, who took them in a different way than what she meant. "I know." He replied modestly. "I told you, I've never stayed in this room before. The ones we took weren't as overtly prestigious."

"Huh?" She breathed, but then something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she jumped. "Oh, WOW! _Look_ at it!"

The view from the window had been so eye grabbing that Bulma hadn't gotten much of a look around the bathroom before running to see the landscaping. But now she was taking it all in, and there was a bathtub the size of a small pool that was prominently standing in the center of the room. How had she missed _that?_

The tub looked as if it was made out of the same materials as the floor and wall, and it was a meter deeper than Bulma was tall. She even had to climb up a small ladder in order to jump in. "It's huge!" She squeaked when she landed inside, and she was so excited that she laughed, twirling around just the accentuate how much room there was. "I can't wait to take a bath in this thing!"

"It took you long enough to notice the tub." Vegeta called from the other side. "I thought it would please you, with how much you like to soak."

"It's amazing! You planned this?!" Bulma was so happy she giggled again. Above her head was a large tap that would fill this thing, and she couldn't help but wonder how long that would take. Aside from this she was quickly realizing that, while there had been a ladder provided in order to climb _in_ , there was nothing she could use to climb _out_.

"All of the rooms have the same bath tub. Not all visitors are the same size. Some are quite large." Her saiyan tour guide had more enthusiasm in his voice now. Meanwhile Bulma was running her hands up the side of the bathtub. It was so smooth! There was no way she'd be able to climb her way out. "How do I get out of here?" She called back.

"Silly Woman..." Vegeta said, and a moment later he had appeared right behind her. "You shouldn't jump into deep things if you don't first know of a way out."

"But I do have a way! I have you!" She was beaming as she moved to wrap her arms around the saiyan. "And I had a way to get _in_ , so I figured..."

"The people who designed this specimen assumed that it would be filled with water when used, I'm sure..." Vegeta was wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. "You don't need a way to climb out if you can just float to the top..." He was starting to lift the two up into the air, slowly hovering out from the pool sized tub.

"Let's go somewhere." Bulma was saying, even before the saiyan was setting her feet down on the shimmering marble floor. "I want to see more of this place!"

"We just got here!" Vegeta replied, but he was openly smirking now. One second she was getting herself trapped in large bathtubs, and not even a moment later she was eagerly moving on to the next thing. "Surely you want to rest first, Woman?"

"No way! I've been cooped up in a spaceship for a week! I want to go explore!"

"Feeling adventurous, are we?" Even as he said it, Bulma knew that Vegeta was teasing her. She could tell by the look on his face. He hadn't traveled all the way to this planet _just_ to hide away in this jungle room. He was wanting to go out just as much as she did, and perhaps even more. She rolled her eyes and slapped a joking palm on the saiyan's bicep, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a tight hug. "Let's go, okay?" She repeated. "I want to see what all this planet has in store. Now that you ask, I'm feeling _very_ adventurous."

"Good to know." The saiyan had his hands on her lower back, and he slowly slid them to her ass before lowering his head to whisper in her ear. "You'd better save some of your intrepidness for when we get back..."

The tone in his voice told Bulma exactly what he meant by that, and his fingertips pressing into her soft skin only emphasized his point. "Hm..." She replied. "… Treat me like a princess today, and maybe I will..."

What an interesting choice of word... Vegeta brushed his mouth against Bulma's skin to make sure she'd feel his smirk. "... There's only one way to become a princess, if not by birth... And that is by _pleasing_ your prince."

"Oh, _really?"_

"Yes, really." His voice was growing deeper, a certain gruffness lulling in the back of his throat. "… _Will you do that for me?"_

"Maybe." Bulma gently pushed away from her _prince_. "But not now. First..."

"Yes!" Vegeta jumped, as if snapping out of deep thought. Bulma, who had been giggling quite a lot since walking into the hotel room, only laughed again to see this. He had been making some dirty implications, but he must have been more invested in his desires than he was letting on. Clearly he'd been distracted with mental images of what was to come. The Bluehead reached out and took his hand, offering it an assuring squeeze. " _When we get back_... okay?"

"Let's go, then." Vegeta replied. He jumped for the door, pulling her with him. Now he seemed more urgent than she was! "The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll return!"

"Yeah!" The Bluehead smiled, her body lunging forward as the saiyan moved. This was promising to be a day that she wouldn't soon forget!


End file.
